Iron And Blood
by Randomabiling
Summary: Robert follows his countrymen into war and Cora handles the battles back at Downton. My take on Robert's time in the Boer War. "The great questions of the day will not be settled by means of speeches and majority decisions but by iron and blood." Otto von Bismarck
1. Chapter 1

_My Darling,_

_I sit on the train to Liverpool, thinking of you, replaying our last moments together. I do not know if you stood in the drive, eagerly waiting for me to turn one last time, wanting to send me off with a sad wave. If you did, I beg you to forgive me for not turning. I could not. I could not drive away into an uncertain future, watching your brave smile falter as you grew small in front of Downton's vast backdrop. I needed to look straight ahead if I was to board this train at all. I have read your own note, pressed into my hand before I left you, three times already and it warms me and worries me in equal measure. Please do not spend your spare moments imagining the worst. Please take care of yourself. Please kiss the girls each night for me. Please write to me, even if you have nothing to say, so that I may read your words and conjure the sound of your sweet voice whispering them into my ear. I promise everything in my power to come back to you safe and whole and to do my part in hurrying this blasted war towards its conclusion._

_Yours always,_

_Robert_

Cora smoothed the letter out onto her lap, reverently stroking it over and over. She tapped her own pen to her lips trying to string together coherent thoughts so that she may write him back, but the only words that came to mind were wrought with the misery of missing him. Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, trying to rid the anxiety from her body, she plastered a smile on her face, as though her countenance could be imprinted on the paper along with her writing. Ink flowed from the tip of her pen in Cora's loopy script and she lost herself in her letter to him.

_My Dearest,_

_I am glad you did not turn in the car for I wouldn't have been able to maintain my composure as you sped faster away from me. I apologize if the tears shed the night before your departure caused you to doubt my ability to manage while you are gone. It was a momentary weakness that needed indulging in or else it would have ripped me in two. But I am collected now and diving into the responsibilities of the estate. And the girls, of course, keep me more than occupied. You would be so proud of them. Mary is so stoic, keeping her little chin high and soldiering on with her studies. Edith is more prone to melancholy, but I have begun to teach her embroidery and she is fast at work on a gift for you and seems pleasantly distracted by her task. Dear Sybil is mostly ignorant of what is going on, as she should be at her age, and I am loath to admit it, but I take the most comfort from her as she showers me with her innocent baby kisses. Her tinkling laughter is a balm to my nerves and I sneak into the nursery while Mary and Edith are deep in their lessons, so that I might have more time with our smallest bundle of energy. Mama has been checking in on us, and though that might cause you alarm, she has been subdued in her disapproval, so there is no need to send a squadron here for appeasement (I jest...mostly). _

_I could write pages and pages to you Robert, just so that I may have a few moments where I feel close to you, as writing seems to help me do, but there are many things to attend to and I do not want to disappoint you in my handling of them. Stay vigilant my love. Come back to me soon._

_Your devoted wife,_

_Cora_

Robert folded up the note and placed it carefully back in its envelope. Blowing out the candle that had illuminated Cora's words, Robert settled back in his cot carefully, as it groaned under his shifting weight. He stared above, unblinking, at the apex of the canvas tent covering him. Within the confines of his quarters, the distant snores of the men under his charge became a background hum. The strange, primal sounds of Africa echoed as well, causing Robert's hair to stand on end. All of it a stark reminder of the gentle stirrings that Cora was prone to at night. During the day, he was occupied with the bloody business of battle, but at night, when the war took a respite and he lay in the dark unable to sleep, he thought of her and Downton. He had not known how hard it would be, a half a world away from the family that held his heart. Robert hadn't realized so fully, until he lay perspiring and lonely, how much of him he had freely given away to his wife since their marriage.

* * *

Cora sank into her bed heavily moments after Jenkins had left. Every part of her ached with the burden of duty. The day had been one endless line of people requiring her attention for something they thought immensely pressing. Carson required the hiring of two more hallboys, the Petersons wanted to negotiate their lease on the south farm, Dr Clarkson had wanted to talk to her about a fundraiser for new hospital equipment and James, Caroline and Patrick had arrived for a few days visit. They had stopped by, as they were 'passing through' York, but Cora was positive the real reason behind their stay was to spy on her fairing while Robert was gone. James was always a little too keen to sink his fingers into Downton, and as the years grew lengthier between Sybil's birth and any other sign of a fourth child, he became more and more forward in his opinion of himself as the next in line after Robert. For him to come around now, while Robert was away at war, felt to Cora like a shark circling a bleeding seal.

As exhausted as she was, Cora couldn't find relief in sleep. The worries of the day as well as the obligations waiting for her tomorrow weighed on her mind. This was the time Cora missed Robert most acutely, his side of the bed a gaping wound. And with missing him came a recurrence of her old homesickness, made long dormant by time and Robert's care. Cora couldn't help feel the foreignness that still clung to her now that her strongest link to England and Downton was away.

Tossing under her covers, Cora faced the spot where Robert should be, a shaky breath escaping her lips. As she did every night since his leaving, she closed her eyes and said a prayer for his safety. She sunk deeper into her pillow, trying to conjure up a picture of Africa, what it would look and feel like and smell like to him. She tried to place her proper, stalwart husband there, fighting in the primitive, arid desert and when her imagination became too vivid and her heart began to pound too aggressively in her chest, finally her senses would release her from wakefulness and plunge her into the land of dreams.

* * *

"Mama! Mama!"

Cora's shoulders hunched forward in defeat and she pinched the bridge of her nose in weariness. Mrs Wilson lips' flickered up in a sympathetic smile, the menus they had been going over forgotten once the tip-tapping of little shoes came knocking closer. A sobbing Edith ran into Cora's sitting room, followed closely by a more leisured paced Mary.

"Girls…" Cora sighed, shaking her head. "You mustn't fight so, it's...Edith! What has happened to your hair?"

At her mother's declaration, Edith burst into fresh sobs, fingers grasping for the girls that once hung on the left side of her head. The seven year old turned her red face to her sister, pointing her finger as Mary stood passively by, arms crossed.

"She cut them Mama! She did it!" Edith blubbered, bobbing her head, accentuating the asymmetry of her hair.

Cora turned to her eldest daughter, her face stern. "Mary, is this true? Why would you do such a thing?"

"She asked for it." Mary replied calmly.

"I did not!" Edith shrieked.

"But you did," Mary stated slowly, as though an adult talking to a very ignorant child. "You wanted to play lady's maid and countess and you insisted on being the countess and I've seen Jenkins do the same for Mama loads of times. I was just tidying up your hair."

"I thought we were pretending!" Edith lamented. Giving into her misery, she ran into Cora's open arms.

Shushing her middle daughter, Cora squinted her eyes carefully over the top of Edith's head, catching Mary in her gaze. The nine year old held her mother's eyes, but her calm exterior began to wither under her mother's scrutiny. After a few more moments, Cora snuggled the sniffling Edith tighter, stroking her hair.

"It's alright, poppit. Jenkins will make it even and it will all grow out in no time. Until then, you and I will make a special trip into Ripon tomorrow to get new hair ribbons. Would you like that?" Cora smiled down at her daughter as she pushed herself out of her arms, her tear stained face shining.

"Really, Mama? Oh yes!" Edith exclaimed happily. An outing alone with her mother was a rare treat.

"My lady," Mrs Wilson interrupted cautiously, "Mr Murray is coming to meet with you tomorrow to go over the accounts."

Edith's face fell and Cora bit her lip, cursing her full schedule and her sleep deprived mind for not being able to keep track of it.

"Well, he's coming after breakfast and shouldn't be here for very long. We can leave right after you've had your lunch, Edith, and then we'll take tea in Ripon as well." Cora decided.

Edith clapped her hands together as Mary put her hands on her hips. "That isn't fair, Mama! I want to go into Ripon too. And I want new hair ribbons!"

"Perhaps next time you'll keep your hands to yourself if they plan on causing mischief." Cora scolded. She stood up, placing a kiss on Edith's head, who hugged her in return. Moving toward Mary to do the same, Cora was met with an exaggerated turn of her eldest's shoulder as she slid out of her mother's reach and refused to meet her eyes. Sighing, Cora turned to Mrs Wilson.

"Could you please deliver the girls back to the governess? I need to freshen up before Dr Clarkson comes to discuss the fundraiser." Cora requested quickly, rushing past the girls and up the stairs. She had only just had her breakfast and already the day was wearing on her. Once on the gallery, Cora caught sight of the nanny, leaning over Sybil who was clothed only in her undergarments and lying outside the door of the nursery, kicking and shouting at the disheveled woman. Cora quickened toward them.

"What is going on here?" Cora asked and the nanny startled at her sudden presence, attempting, unsuccessfully, to smoothen out her skirts.

"I'm so sorry your ladyship, but Lady Sybil refuses to get dressed this morning." The nanny explained.

Cora bent down and pressed a hand to her youngest daughter's shoulder. The toddler stilled under her mother's touch and jumped up, flinging herself onto Cora. "Story, Mama?" Sybil pled.

"Oh darling, Mama has an important meeting she must attend soon. How about before your nap? I'll tuck you in and read you anything you want." Cora bargained, rubbing Sybil's cheek.

"All right, Mama," Sybil sang, her tantrum from earlier quickly forgotten.

"Now be a good girl for nanny and go get dressed." Cora got back up and tapped Sybil's bottom as she ran back into the nursery, the nanny quick behind her.

Cora once again made her way to her bedroom, her throat burning as she wished, for the thousandth time, that Robert would be waiting for her behind the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Ok, so I am no military scholar or Boer War expert. I did a little Googling and stuck in the few things I retained after skimming the article, made up a bunch of stuff and this is what I got. I apologize for any inaccuracies, but this is fiction, not historical source material.**

_28th October 1899_

_Dear Cousin Robert,_

_I hope this letter finds you well despite the hellish circumstances that surround you. I sometimes think of throwing my hat into the fray as well, but then I think of the family's situation, and it seems unwise. _

_Speaking of family, Caroline, Patrick and myself have just come from a visit to Downton. The girls are getting on and quite lively. Your mother is as fit as ever. Cora, of course, was the perfect hostess, although I think we created a heap more work for her on top of the mountain she is already undertaking. _

_Robert, I do not wish to intrude or undermine your decisions, but do you really think it wise leaving Cora to oversee it all? It would be difficult for any one person to be sure, but doubly so for someone still learning our ways. And Cora has always seemed so delicately made to me. I wonder if she has the stamina for it should this trouble with the Boer's drag out._

_I would be happy to offer her my assistance in any way. Think on it._

_Your friend and cousin,_

_James_

Robert studied the tactical map laid out across his desk, cursing as the light from the kerosine lamp flickered. He rubbed at his eyes, the names of places blurring together. Slumping into the creaky chair of his makeshift desk, Robert reached for a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply before exhaling a plume of smoke slowly into the tent. He studied the burning embers between his fingertips, shaking his head. Cora would be appalled at his new habit, but he found it helped to steady him, focus his senses and clear his head. Unfortunately the rhythmic act of smoking could not dispel the tone of James's letter.

Robert knew Cora's mind could handle what he had left to her care. She was incredibly bright and she had an instinct that hardly steared her wrong. Cora could be shrewd when the case called for it and underneath it all was more level headed than he. Robert was confident that Cora would do him proud, but James's letter had touched upon a nagging worry Robert did have. Cora wasn't good at saying no and he feared she would overextend herself. Perhaps it had been a folly to think she'd be able to juggle all of the balls she was responsible for but Robert hadn't wanted to give James any more opportunity to become enmeshed in Downton. Patrick was a good boy, but Robert had never entirely trusted James.

Thoughts of James and Patrick and the lack of a son of his own plagued Robert now as they hadn't before. Thousands of miles away, in a foreign land and spending his days ducking gunfire lent the situation a frenetic pulse. His anxiety over what would happen should he die out there, no heir of their own making to shield Cora and the girls, tormented his gut like an ulcer. It made him extra vigilant when on patrol and calculating when planning strategy. He knew that Cora had been made to feel inadequate at not having a son, though he had always tried to lift that burden from her. Now, sitting in the dark, the smell of dust and gunpowder clinging to him like cologne, he finally felt the weight of what she carried. He wondered if he could have done something to intervene, to make sure his family wouldn't be turned out the moment his body was brought back to England, should the worst happen. Snuffing out the stub of tobacco left, Robert propped his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He couldn't worry any longer about what they did not have. All that was left was to stay as safe as he could.

Cora was all optimism and jollyness in her letters but now that James had planted the seed of doubt in his head, Robert couldn't help but feel anxious over her well being. Taking pen and paper, Robert leaned over and began writing.

* * *

"Mama, you are very introspective tonight. Should we be concerned that you are plotting something?"

Violet pursed her lips and flicked her eyes to the left, briefly meeting Rosamund's look before glancing back across to the young woman she had been studying most of the evening. Her daughter in law had not looked up at Rosamund's comment, remaining lost in her own thoughts, eyes averted to her plate as she mechanically put food in her mouth. Only someone accustomed to Cora's variety of expressions would realize she hadn't really been listening to them for most of the evening.

When Violet cleared her throat a second time, Cora startled and met her mother in laws stare, fixing her lips into a gracious smile. She had to give it to Cora, the girl had always been good at bucking up and doing what needed to be done. She wasn't a complainer or a whiner. After knowing Cora for almost ten years however, Violet had begun to see the fissures in the facade even before Robert had expressed concern in his latest letter.

"I say, Cora, you've kept the place up and running quite well. Brava!" Marmaduke saluted, lifting his glass in her direction before taking a generous sip.

Cora smiled briefly at her brother in law. "Well, it has only been a month."

"It sometimes only takes a day to foul something up." Rosamund chimed in. "You must let us know if we can do anything to help."

"You could start by coming back on the twenty-fifth. James has asked me to host the hunt and I need someone to entertain Caroline." Cora sighed.

"What? With Robert not here?" Violet demanded. "Cora, you cannot let James bully you."

"I don't mind," Cora answered quickly, too tired for a battle of wills with her mother in law.

"It isn't a question of minding, my dear. But this war could be a marathon, do not get tricked into treating it like a sprint or you will be left gasping for breath before the real race has begun." Violet cautioned.

"I like being busy," Cora replied quietly. "It makes the time go quicker."

Violet tilted her head, the steel in her face softening at the thickness of Cora's words. "I know it helps, but it won't do burning your candle at both ends. You must take care of yourself."

Cora nodded at Violet, "I am."

"Hmph," Violet replied and held Cora's eyes a moment longer before the younger woman looked away.

* * *

Robert jogged up to the front line of men marching solemnly toward the Tugela River. Searching the rows of uniforms, Robert finally picked out the stout general and quickly changed his course, getting closer to his commander.

"General Buller!" Robert called, weaving in and out amongst the men.

The general turned in his direction, his stride unbroken. "Lord Lieutenant Crawley."

"Sir, I've been studying the maps again and I believe our guide is taking us in the wrong direction." Robert panted, following the quick pace of the general.

"Psht, nonsense! This is exactly what we had planned back at camp." General Buller scoffed dismissively.

"With all due respect sir, this isn't the direction of the right ford! If you just look here," the loud crackling of the map as Robert opened it cut through the night. "This is the Punt Drift, not the Bridle Drift."

Without looking at the paper in Robert's hands, General Buller marched forward. "Lord Lieutenant, I know you are used to people bowing at your feet in Yorkshire, but if you have not noticed, you are a long way from there now. And over here, I am Lord and master."

Robert stopped, the men around him stepping aside to avoid running into him. He knew they were being led into a terminal situation. Their crossing point was west of their position and instead they were headed for the narrowest part of the river. They would be sitting ducks for the Boers as they attempted to get their ranks across.

The waves of men meeting his back propelled him on. Robert took his rifle and held it across his chest, finger on the trigger as the first of the men splashed into the warm water. As he predicted, their numbers created a bottle neck in the narrow loop of river they found themselves in. A bubbling of panic stirred in his belly as the first rounds of gunfire cut through the night. He saw the men in front go down and he crouched in position, looking for anything to take cover behind. Searching the horizon was useless. The Boers remained hidden in the cloak of night. Robert took aim. The air was stained with the smell of blood and smoke. A great tornado of energy exploded by his right ear and the world sank into black.

* * *

Cora observed her daughters as they jumped around the Christmas tree, frantic in their merriment as Carson and Mrs Wilson directed the hall boys carrying boxes of ornaments. Sybil kept scampering back and forth before the large fir, trying to catch a glimpse of the tree from all sides. Once the boxes were deposited at their feet and the lids removed, the girls dove in, screeching with delight as they produced one colorful trinket after another. They busied themselves with decorating the lower branches while footmen on ladders ornamented the higher parts of the tree. Cora was lost in enjoying the excitement the girls felt, when suddenly a chill grabbed hold of her and a ringing began in her ears. Her legs buckled and she caught herself on the table she was standing near.

"Mama?" Mary had heard her stumble and turned around. For a moment Cora found she could not speak and Mary rushed to her side. "Mama, are you ill?"

Mrs Wilson hurried over and held Cora's arm, guiding her down into a chair and Cora gasped heavily, the wave of nausea that had accompanied her lightheadedness slowly dissipating. With a shaking hand, Cora stroked Mary's cheek, attempting to sooth the alarm that was evident in Mary's face.

"Milady, are you alright?" Mrs Wilson asked gently, "Shall I call for Dr Clarkson?"

Cora shook her head. "No, I'm perfectly fine. Perhaps a lie down would do me good however. Could you send Jenkins up please."

Cora carefully rose to her feet and then patted Mary's head. "You girls make the tree beautiful. And mind Mrs Wilson." Giving Mary a soft kiss, Cora made her way up the stairs, on the verge of tears without any reason as to why she suddenly felt so grief stricken.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you all for the kind reviews. I hope you keep enjoying the story! This next chapter is pretty long, and also rated T for sexy Time, so skip if you aren't into it. Keep letting me know what you think!**

_1 January 1900_

_My dear daughter,_

_I hope you are bearing up during what I can only imagine is a very trying time. I would extend an invitation to you and the girls to get away from it all and come to New York, but from what you describe in your letters, it seems you are kept quite busy. Perhaps i will make plans to visit you sometime in the spring. Save you from that stern mother in law of yours._

_News of the war is...not good here. I keep Robert in my thoughts and pray for a speedy and safe return. I don't want to add to your headaches dear, but I worry, and I want to make sure you aren't blindsided should something happen. How has he provided for your future should he not come back? Won't any of your father's money go back to you? Where will you go once Downton is turned over to that cousin of his? Really, the English have a very peculiar way when it comes to taking care of one's own family. Anyway, just because you are a woman doesn't mean you should be kept in the dark about such matters. I hope that Robert has a plan in place for you and the girls._

_Take care dear,_

_Your loving mother_

Cora slid into her bedroom, shutting the door firmly and leaning against the ornate wood, her mother's letter crumpled in her fist. Hand at her stomach and the other covering her mouth, she tried to pull herself together. But in the loneliness of her room, away from the eyes of everyone, hot tears fell down her face.

It had been almost three weeks since Robert's last letter. She had told herself that perhaps he was on the move, or the war office was bogged down with transporting correspondences. His silence coupled with her mother's words snuffed out the optimism she could usually muster. What was left was a growing fear that ate away at her nerves, leaving her defenseless to thoughts of the worst. A harsh bark of a sob escaped her lips, followed by a another and she hunched over, trying to muffle the sound.

"Cora?" Startling upright, her breath stuck in her chest, and her legs began to shake as Robert appeared from around her washroom door.

Robert rushed to where Cora was standing, holding her arms. "I wanted to surprise you," he explained. "I see now it was not the best idea. Please don't faint."

"What...how…" Cora couldn't pull her thoughts together as Robert led her over to the bed. She reached out to trace the puckered, pink scar that she noticed now peaked through the hair above his right ear.

"What happened to you?" Cora demanded. Robert took her hand away from the injury and kissed her fingertips, wrapping his other hand around her waist as they sat close, legs pressed up against each other.

"Just a flesh wound, darling. It's fine." Robert explained, leaning in for a proper kiss. Cora's hand on his chest stopped him.

"How can you say that? This is from a gun, isn't it? Someone shot at your head!" Cora's voice rose.

"Cora, please don't. I'm here, isn't that what matters?" Robert caressed the side of her face while pulling her tighter.

"Oh God, Robert! I've been so worried." Cora gripped his shoulders, finally falling into him and pressed her lips to his.

Her kiss began hungry and hard and grew desperate still, needing to feel the reassuring warmth of his mouth around hers. Robert responded with greedy passion that left her gasping. He rubbed his hands roughly over her breasts, the casing of her clothing dulling the touch to a teasing agony. Cora leaned back, pulling Robert down onto her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. The weight of him made her groan, with pleasure or relief she couldn't tell. Robert pushed up the skirts of her dress and petticoat. The metallic unhinging of her garter clips caused Cora to writhe as Robert quickly worked to remove the barriers that kept her from feeling him fully. Finally pulling her knickers off, her bottom half exposed, Robert fumbled with his own belt and trousers before sinking into her, both of them grunting at the contact.

Furiously Robert unbuttoned the top loops of Cora's dress, pushing away the fabric and exposing the gentle hills of her breasts peeking over her chemise and corset. He dipped his hand over the top, wedging it between her flesh and the boning that held her, cupping her as best he could and pressing, his calloused hands a new kind of roughness that made her whimper. Their movements became more frenzied as they clung to one another.

"Sweet Jesus, Cora," Robert exhaled before burying his tongue in her mouth, tasting her eager kisses. He was so close and by the way she panted under him, head rocking on the pillow, back arched impossibly high, she was on the brink as well. Robert sucked at the tops of her breasts as he drove deeper within and then she was moaning and trembling around him and pulling him over the edge.

* * *

"Someone will come looking for me, Robert," Cora mumbled, naked and groggy. Their second coupling had been softer, more reverent as they took the time to undress and become reacquainted with bodies they knew as well as their own.

Robert played with the loose curls on her head as she pressed light kisses onto his neck. His body felt heavy, satisfied, his limbs liquid and incapable of movement. The tension that had coiled his muscles since leaving that autumn dissipated as he lay under Cora's body.

"No one will come. I gave Carson strict orders." Robert replied, his eyes closed.

"You told Carson you were coming home and not me?" Cora scolded, leaning up.

Robert gazed at his wife, smirking at the indignation on her face. "Well, I needed to arrange for someone to get me at the station."

Cora's face became serious. "I know you wanted to surprise me, but please, Robert, don't wait so long again before writing. You don't know the horrible things I imagined."

"It was stupid of me," Robert conceded. "I didn't think, my darling." Robert reached up and wrapped a stray strand of Cora's hair around his finger. Cora closed her eyes and leaned her head into the palm of his hand.

"What is it?" Robert urged as Cora's brows knitted together and her chin quivered.

Cora shook her head, frown deepening. "The news that reaches us is terrifying, Robert. They say the Boers have been clobbering the British, that casualties are high. I just...I didn't fully appreciate how difficult this would be."

Robert stared into Cora's eyes before pulling her back down, massaging her shoulder. "We are ill equipped and ill advised. It will be a much longer fight than anyone realized."

They fell silent, holding one another. "How long do we have together?" Cora asked faintly.

Robert stilled before answering, "Four days."

* * *

"Well there you are! I thought we would need to send Carson to look for you." Violet commented as Robert joined her and Cora in the library for a nightcap.

Robert's responding smile was wan as he went to the liquor tray and poured himself a generous brandy. He stood staring into his glass before bringing it up to his lips and taking a long sip. Cora rose from her spot near Violet and crossed over to where Robert was rooted. When she placed a gentle hand on Robert's arm, he startled slightly and his eyes slowly lost the haze that clouded them.

"What is it?" Cora asked lowly.

Robert drew in a deep breath, covering her hand with his own and giving it a squeeze before motioning her toward the sofa. Violet looked at the couple expectantly. "Oh dear, you look quite forlorn."

"I've been going over the documents of the entail." Robert sat down heavily.

"Oh, whatever for?" Violet inquired with confusion.

"To see," Robert paused, taking Cora's hand in his, "if there was any concession made should I die before we've had a son. Something carved out for Cora and our daughters."

Violet sat up straighter and observing Robert's grim expression she interjected, "I am assuming that there is not, by your face."

The shake of Robert's head was barely perceptible. He chanced a glance at Cora, who kept her gaze on her knees. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I've failed you."

Cora looked up quickly, "No you haven't Robert. It isn't your fault."

Robert pulled away from her and stood up, pacing agitatedly. "Of course it is. I should have thought of this scenario."

"We were both very young when we signed those papers," Cora gently pointed out.

"Cora," Robert's voice came out harsher than he intended, "James will have no obligation to provide for you once he becomes earl. All of your fortune will go to him. And you very well all can't live in the Dower House with Mama."

Cora bit her lip, feeling her panic rise but swallowing it down as Robert's distress rose. "We'll go back to America."

Robert froze. "What?"

Cora nodded, "My mother would take us in. My father tied up the rest of his money as tightly as yours did, so she wouldn't be able to send me an allowance but she'd certainly take us in."

"God, what a mess!" Robert lamented, rubbing his forehead.

"There is a solution that wouldn't require the Earl of Grantham's children suddenly becoming Colonial." Violet interrupted, breaking her silence.

Both Robert and Cora turned to her expectantly. "And what is that?" Robert wondered.

"Promise Mary to Patrick." Violet stated.

"What?!" Cora demanded, looking from Robert to Violet, incredulous. "She's eight years old!"

Violet shrugged off Cora's comment. "My mama's marriage was arranged before her fifth birthday."

"That was practically a hundred years ago! It's a new century now." Cora scoffed.

Violet pierced her with her blue eyes, "Don't be impertinent, Cora. It isn't becoming. You have two days to change your status as a mother without a son. If that isn't enough time, I suggest you take my option under advisement."

"Now who's being impertinent!" Cora muttered, directing her eyes towards the fire and trying to quell the sickness to her stomach that all of this maudlin talk had created.

* * *

Robert leaned against the nursery door, watching his girls as they played unaware of his presence. He couldn't believe how quickly Sybil had grown in the short time he had been away. His eyes softened taking in how she lovingly rocked her babydoll, passing a soothing hand over the doll's head, mimicking a gesture he had seen Cora do on one of their children hundreds of times. His youngest resembled his wife more and more, in looks and sweet demeanor and it wasn't a surprise to him that Cora found such solace in her presence during his absence.

Edith sat on the floor, fitting the pieces of a puzzle together, chewing her bottom lip in concentration. She had been quiet during his short reunion with them, often avoiding his eyes, as though suddenly shy around him and it made his heart hurt that he had to coax a kiss or a hug from her. Cora was convinced that Edith was just protecting herself from having to say goodbye again, but Robert wondered if she didn't resent him for going away.

Mary was at her desk, scribbling away at her lessons. She had shot up a few inches at least since autumn and he couldn't quite get used to how close she was to womanhood. Could it really have been almost nine years since she was born? He remembered the event so vividly, of course, his anxiety, his excitement. It was the only thing Mary had done in her short life slowly, but true to her stubborn nature, she had not made her appearance until she was ready, no matter how long her poor mother had labored. Cora had been apologetic when he was finally allowed in her room, but her eyes told him how deeply in love she already was with their little daughter and he tumbled head long after her when he laid eyes on Mary's perfect face.

Cora had been wound up tightly by Violet's words the night before and it had taken Robert a good portion of the night to talk her out of her anger. After she finally gave herself over to sleep, Robert couldn't help but stare at the canopy of her bed, blinking in the night, and worrying about the future of his family. Now that Violet had presented the option, Robert couldn't help but to ruminate on it. Cora seemed adamantly against it, but perhaps in time, she could be won over to the idea.

"Hello darlings," Robert called out, betraying his position at the door. Sybil squealed with delight, running over and jumping into his arms. Edith peered up at him, a ghost of a smile before returning to her task.

"Hello Papa," Mary greeted sedately, already the prim little lady of his mother's making.

Carrying Sybil with him, Robert moved deeper into the room and took a seat near Mary, glancing at the figures she was working on.

"How are your studies going? You're minding the governess I hope." Robert raised an eyebrow as Mary rolled her eyes.

"Of course Papa," Mary replied.

"Mary, I have a very important request for you while I'm gone," Robert lowered his voice in seriousness. At the change in his tone, Mary sat up a little higher and folded her hands in her lap, giving him all her attention.

"It's a big job your Mama has here. I need you to help her as much as you can. While she takes care of everything I want you to take care of her." Robert placed his hand on Mary's. "No more haircuts in the nursery."

"Papa, it wasn't my fault!" Mary whined.

"Mary," Robert warned, "you're a lady now, and Edith and Sybil are still children. Your Mama needs you and I am asking you to be a big girl on my behalf. It's a big task but I think you're equal to it."

Mary nodded her head confidently. "I can do it Papa. You needn't worry."

Robert's smile grew large, "I knew you could. You're a good girl, darling." Robert placed a kiss on her forehead and then stood, placing Sybil back down on the floor to play. Ruffling Edith's hair as he walked by, Robert paused in the doorway and turned.

"Mary," he called, "how do you find Patrick?"

Mary's eyes squinted with puzzlement and she shrugged her shoulders. "He's fine I suppose. Why?"

"Just curious," Robert said before leaving the girls.


	4. Chapter 4

_9 February 1900_

_Dearest Robert,_

_You'll be as sad as I to hear that Mrs Wilson has handed in her notice. Her mother is gravely ill and her father too infirm to handle the nursing by himself. She has kindly agreed to stay on a bit to help find a replacement but I imagine she will not be able to give me much more than a few weeks. _

_How does one hire and train a housekeeper for a household such as Downton in so short a time? I am loathe to ask your mother for help, but I confess that hiring a housekeeper is daunting. I wish you were here to guide me in your caring way. I wish you were here for so many reasons. Perhaps I will ask Carson his advice. He would not hold it against me. _

_Do not fear, darling, the house will still be standing, eagerly awaiting your return, as am I, and we will get through this latest setback. I love you and please stay safe. The girls send their love._

_Yours always,_

_Cora_

* * *

Fanning out the stack of applications in front of her, Cora chewed her cuticle in concentration until she found the one she was looking for. Grabbing hold of the paper and pulling it closer, she read the name. _Elsie Hughes_. The woman had been to Downton twice now, once to meet with herself and again to meet with Carson. She smiled, thinking of the flushed cheeks of her butler after his meeting with Miss Hughes. Cora had never seen the dignified man so animated. She wondered if his enthusiasm had more to do with the woman's pleasant face than with her experience, but Cora had to admit that she liked her most out of all the candidates. Miss Hughes had a straightforward and kind manner and her references had been stellar. Taking out her stationary and feeling rather proud of herself, Cora began to draft Miss Hughes' offer of employment

The woman sitting next to her was decidedly different than the one who had come on just five short weeks prior. Cora had found Mrs Hughes eager in her learning and sharp in what she already had mastered. What she lacked in experience had been overshadowed by the confidence she carried, convincing Cora that she would be equal to any task given to her. However, since Mrs Wilson's departure, Mrs Hughes seemed a little deflated. The woman before her frowned deeply, no doubt meditating on the fiasco of the previous evening's dinner party.

"Milady, I have no explanation for last night." Mrs Hughes apologized.

Taking her time to consider the housekeeper, Cora waited a few moments before speaking. "Mrs Hughes, I thought I had been explicit with my instructions when we met earlier this week. I had trusted that everything would be in order under your direction."

"You were as clear as crystal, milady." Mrs Hughes rushed to point out in her lilting brogue.

"Then why was everything such a disaster? The sleeping arrangements I laid out were completely disregarded, the menu was atrocious. I told you about the Marchioness of Flintshire's shellfish allergy and what was the first course? A shellfish stew!" Cora struggled to keep her tone level, but remembering the previous night reignited the humiliation she had felt. Susan's dislike for her was a flimsily kept secret. Since being served a hot bowl of certain death at Cora's dinner table, she was sure Robert's abominable cousin would become more vocal in her opinions. Half of London was probably already privy to the episode. She just hoped the woman had enough sense to not write Robert, but Susan's self-centeredness made it an almost guarantee that she would.

"I do not know what to say," Mrs Hughes hung her head.

Exasperated, Cora stood up, wanting to throw up her hands at the housekeeper's lack of explanation. "It is imperative that this house run flawlessly while his Lordship is away. I thought you an intelligent woman, Mrs Hughes, so I doubt I have to explain to why. You can either help me with that or you cannot. If you find it beyond the scope of your abilities I must find someone else."

"I understand milady." Mrs Hughes said, head once again high, rising slowly. "If that is all, I will see to the staff."

"Yes, it is." Cora responded, her voice tight.

Cora was alone only moments before Carson silently stood in the doorway of her sitting room. Clasping her hands in front of her, Cora raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment, tiredly wondering what else had gone wrong.

"Milady, I wonder if I may have a word," Carson inquired.

"Of course, Carson. Come in." Cora answered.

Carson came further into the room, his stature stiff and serious, obviously discomforted by whatever it was he wanted to talk about. "I wonder if I may speak to you about a matter downstairs."

"Oh dear," Cora responded, sighing.

Carson cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention that certain staff members are unwilling to work with Mrs Hughes."

"Oh?" Cora asked, confused. "Why?"

"I'm afraid they do not think kindly on taking orders from someone of Mrs Hughes….origin." Carson explained.

"What? But that's absurd, aren't you all British?" Cora pointed out.

"If I may, that is like saying are not all Americans 'American' when that is historically not the case," Carson responded carefully.

"I see," Cora sighed. "It's best you enlighten me to what's happened."

"Well, the head housemaid directed the younger girls to disregard Mrs Hughes's bed chamber layout and made one up of her own. And Mrs Jones swears she cooked the menu that Mrs Hughes delivered to her, but her scullery maid is saying it isn't true. Some of the footmen have been cheeky but that only lasted but a moment before they came under my reprimand." Carson stood silent and solemn after his report to Cora.

"Why didn't you warn me this would happen, Carson?" Cora wondered.

"I swear, milady," Carson began in earnest, "I had no idea some of the staff would react this way to Mrs Hughes when I endorsed her. I wouldn't purposely steer you wrong."

Cora shook her head, "No, Carson, I don't believe you would. I'm sorry if that sounded like an accusation."

Cora paced the floor, mulling over what the best course would be. She stopped and nodded her head decisively before turning to Carson. "I'm sorry, but I see no other way around it, Bridget and Mrs Jones will just have to be let go, effective immediately and without reference."

Carson's bushy eyebrows arched into his hairline, "Milady, are you quite sure? What will the house do without a cook?"

"We have nothing important in the calendar so the assistants will do fine until another is hired. I want it clear that Mrs Hughes is in charge. She takes her instruction from me, so going against her is ultimately a defiance of me. And I won't stand for that or any underhandedness."

Carson's brows lowered and a small smile spread over his lips, "Brava milady! His Lordship would be impressed."

Cora's single huff of laughter was a little dejected. "Yes, well, I think I'll hear an earful from the Dowager over this one. Probably something along the lines of amateur mistakes and such."

Carson allowed only the hint of a grin before exiting the room. Once she was alone, Cora sank into her seat, propping an elbow on her desk and resting her forehead in her open hand. She had sounded much surer of her plan than she felt. There was no telling how long it would take to find a replacement for Mrs Jones and what the dismissal of two staff members would do to the morale downstairs. Yet, she couldn't help but feel that putting her faith behind Mrs Hughes would prove to be the right decision. The housekeeper had won her respect. She could have easily blamed the other women but she had taken Cora's scolding graciously and had given her word to do better.

It struck Cora that for the first time in her almost thirty-two years, she was the one in charge. There was no father or husband to lean back on or defer to, she was it. She thought she should feel some sort of liberating excitement at the power but really, it was only loneliness and uncertainty that enveloped her. She had never experienced longing as she did now, but there was no time to dwell on what she wished, two more servants needed to be hired. Wearily, Cora sat back in her chair, took her pen and paper, and began to write an advertisement.

* * *

"Will that be all milady?" Jenkins inquired

"Yes," Cora breathed, her aching body's response to the hot bath water already making her feel looser in muscle and mind. She had toured some of the farms with the estate manager and spending the day on horseback was something she was not accustomed to. Cringing, she knew walking would be a difficult task in the morning.

"Would you like me to bring your dinner tray when I return to dress you?" Jenkins asked as she gathered Cora's soiled riding clothes. Dining alone had become too depressing in Downton's giant dining room, Robert's empty chair a constant reminder of his absence. Most evenings Cora opted to take a tray in her room or joined the girls in the nursery if she was done with her day's tasks early enough. The dining room lay quiet and dark, except for the times Violet joined her or the occasional dinner party.

"Just some dry toast, Jenkins." Cora responded drowsily.

"Are you sure milady?" The maid's voice was edged with passive concern.

Cora nodded, "I'm too sore to chew I think."

After a moments pause, the woman left Cora to her bath. Closing her eyes, Cora reclined her head, resting it on the cool marble of the tub and placing a steaming wash cloth over her eyes. As usual, Robert's face was what she saw whenever her lids shuttered down and she was left to the darkness. She thought of him during morning's first awareness when the sun filtered through her sleep, breaking up the night's dreams. She thought of him throughout the day, in odd circumstances, the idea of him popping into her consciousness like a balloon broken free from a child's hand. He came to her as she quieted down, waiting for sleep to claim her. Sometimes these conjurings of her husband brought the familiar sting of tears, other times the pain of missing him was beyond saltwater emotions, unwilling to let her go, burrowing down in her gut and festering.

It hardly seemed possible that it had been two months since his leave. For four wonderful, heartbreakingly short days they had been inseparable. Robert followed her on her routines, witnessing her at the business of running Downton, whispering encouragements when she looked to him for approval. At night they made love for each other, and something else, more desperate. Robert's need to leave her with a piece of himself, a legacy for Downton should he not make it back.

Her thoughts naturally turned to Mary. No one had spoken of Violet's suggestion after it was made but it hung there in the air, a tilt of the head, a knowing squint of the eye, every time Violet came to the house. It was the unwritten question in each of Robert's letters when he inquired if his cousins had been to Downton. The idea made Cora sick to her stomach, promising her beautiful girl away while she was still a child, before Mary could even dream up prince charmings of her own.

Cora had known the girls matches would be as much about practicalities and ambition as they would be about deeper feelings. That was the way for families like the Crawleys. Even for her own. But she had hoped to put off the strategizing for a handful of years yet. And secretly, she wished for love to sweep her children in the right direction. To promise Mary to Patrick now seemed like a waving of the white flag, accepting defeat in fulfilling her duty as Robert's wife in producing an heir, accepting defeat as Mary's mother of protecting her heart as much as her future.

Exhaustion and worry clung heavy to Cora as she stood, grasped the metal chain of the stopper with her toes and released the tepid water from the tub. Wrapping a plush towel around herself, Cora padded into her bedroom. Looking at the bell pull, she decided against ringing for Jenkins, the call of her bed too tempting to wait for the maid. Instead, Cora hastily wiggled into her nightdress, plaited her hair and sank into the warm comfort of her covers, asleep moments after resting her head upon the pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

_11 April 1900_

_Dearest Papa,_

_The flowers are blooming here. Mama has let me take Jupiter out for rides in the afternoon now that it is warmer. She will not let me practice jumps. Could you please write and tell her how very good I am at it? We went to Ripon last Saturday for a new habit as I am too big for my old one. Mama says I look very smart. Edith was given my other one. She already splashed it with mud._

_I have been working very hard on my arithmetic and social studies. I am halfway through my primer and governess says I am much improved in Latin. Edith is doing very poor in her spelling, Papa. She doodles during lessons._

_I almost forgot! Happy birthday, Papa! I am going to draw a special picture at the end just for you. Mama took us to buy you a present, but she says we cannot send it. We had a cake for you tonight and sang and Sybil, Edith and I blew out the candles. I made a wish for you. Mama says even though you are far, far away you would be able to hear our singing in your heart. I think she is wrong, hearts are not for hearing, ears are. I did not tell her this though, because she already looked sad. Because Edith is not a lady, she had your piece for you. I think she ended up with a belly ache, which is what Mama told her would happen. Nanny says I must finish and get ready for bed._

_Goodnight Papa!_

_Love,_

_Mary_

Robert shook his head and chuckled. His thoughts traveled to home, as they often did at this hour when the day's fighting was done and his body was weary. Mary's words gave him a focal point as he imagined her trotting proudly on Jupiter, looking smart and grown up in her new clothes. He could hear the strain in Cora's voice as she called out to their daughter, asking her to take care on her pony. A heavy breath pushed through his lips, the mournful sound of it causing the other man in the room to stop his work and speak.

"Is anything wrong, milord?" John Bates asked, still holding the parts of Robert's rifle that he had disassembled.

"No, nothing at all Bates. A letter from my daughter. She's eight. Soon to be nine." Robert explained.

Bates nodded, "That's very good, milord," he said before going back to his cleaning.

Robert studied the man he had just met days before. His new batman. Bates seemed fine enough; rather quiet and serious, not much for small talk. Robert knew barely anything about him.

"Do you have a family waiting for you back in England Bates?" Robert asked congenially.

A moment's pause, a slight downturn of expression before the man's face became neutral once more. "No milord, just my mother."

"Ahh well, I know a thing or two about mothers as well." Robert joked.

Bates smiled briefly before returning to his task of cleaning the rifle. Robert kept watch a beat longer before focusing on his desk once again. He took Mary's letter and added it to the intricately wooden box he had been given by one of their guides. It housed every note he had been sent since arriving in Africa. He would paw through the saved letters during times of extreme loneliness and feel some of the longing dissolve at the familiar script of his loved ones. Cora's letters especially had the power to soothe his homesickness, and he was surprised how easily he could picture her speaking the words she had written.

It was funny the things he missed about her. He had expected to yearn for the touch of her skin or the feel of her kiss or the warmth of her embrace. He hadn't anticipated, however, to wish he could hear her voice, it's angular tones so distinct, so Cora. He hadn't thought he'd pine for the way she raised her eyebrows in amusement or the way she would run her tongue over her upper lip when in concentration. Robert, immersed in his revelries, failed to hear Bates' question. Only when the man cleared his throat twice in quick succession did Robert shake himself out if his daydream.

"I'm sorry Bates, what did you say?" Robert asked, coughing to cover up his embarrassment.

"I only asked if you had any more children, milord." Bates repeated.

"Oh! Yes, I do. Two more girls. Seven and three." Robert couldn't help but smile widely. He turned suddenly in his chair, took hold of the gilded frame on his desk and looked down at it before stretching toward Bates, handing him the picture. It had been taken the previous year, all five of their faces looking straight into the lens.

"A very handsome family, milord," Bates stated after looking at the photograph.

"Thank you," Robert replied, a touch wistful. "What you hold in your hand there Bates are my four reasons for wanting this war to end as soon as possible."

* * *

The creaking of the back staircase was as loud as lightning in the stillness of the house and Cora winced with each groan of wood that her steps elicited. Her candle's light flickered teasingly against the walls of the narrow passage and with her free hand she gripped the railing tightly, her feet unaccustomed to the steep steps. Creeping through the door and into the servants domain, she suddenly felt a thief in the night instead of a woman wandering her own house and she almost turned back.

"Mi'lady?" The word, said softly and slowly still jolted the tomb-like silence and Cora jumped, sucking in a gasp and clutching her chest as she turned.

"I'm so sorry, milady, I tried not to startle you," Mrs Hughes apologized, taking the shaking candle out of Cora's hand.

Catching her breath, Cora pulled her robe tighter and composed herself. "It's quite alright. I was just…"

Cora's words drifted away as she struggled for an explanation for her midnight appearance near the kitchen. She couldn't explain to the woman that she had already ghosted the nursery, standing in the doorway, listening to the sleepy snores of her children and risking their waking just to lessen the solitary feeling that clung to her. She couldn't explain that down in the bowels of the house, where hard work was done day in and out, that those rooms felt more alive than the ornate, cavernous rooms upstairs and thus less likely to cause her to reflect on what was missing. Cora didn't think she could admit to the woman that she craved something she didn't think she'd find anywhere but it didn't prevent her from trying. As Mrs Hughes contemplated her silence and then tilted her head just slightly, a blush of sympathy relaxing her features, Cora thought perhaps she understood without having to say a word.

"Would you like a cup of tea, milady?" Mrs Hughes asked gently.

"I would love one, Mrs Hughes." Cora replied, her gratitude making the words waver in the air between them.

Cora followed the housekeeper into the kitchen and sat at the small table set to the side as Mrs Hughes put a kettle to boil. The two women remained silent, the awkwardness giving way, as the minutes moved on, to a more enjoyable interlude while Mrs Hughes went about the task of preparing their tea. Finally Cora's thoughts, which had been turbulent and filled with Robert, quieted due to the lateness of the hour and the calming effect of a companion, and she attempted to stifle a long yawn behind her raised hand. Mrs Hughes handed Cora a steaming.

"Thank you," Cora sighed, warming her hands on the china. "If you don't mind my asking Mrs Hughes, what were you doing up at this hour? You couldn't have heard me down here from the servants quarters."

"I was in my sitting room, milady." Mrs Hughes answered. "Doing a bit of sewing. The time had gotten away from me, I'm afraid and I didn't realize how late it had become until I heard you walking about."

"Gracious, what project has you burning the oil?" Cora wondered.

"A friend of mine is the lady's maid to a Mrs Coolidge. They've just bought Rothby House. Her son is fighting in Africa and she's collecting sewn handkerchiefs for his regimine. It seems to keep their spirits high, getting the colorful little swatches and keeps the sweat off their brows!"

"What a marvelous thing!" Cora exclaimed.

Mrs Hughes nodded, "There are a few of us making them. We've been scouring dress shops whenever we have the chance and taking their scraps."

Cora clapped her hands together, eyes widening in excitement. "I've just had a wonderful idea, Mrs Hughes! What if I held a sort of tea for some of the ladies in the county and had them bring all of their old frocks? We could donate them to you and your friends and you can cut them up and use what you need."

"Milady, that's very kind," Mrs Hughes smiled sincerely. "But you've enough to do without adding my cause to the lot."

"Nonsense! It's only a tea. Your cause is a worthy one," Cora replied. Looking down at her hand, she fingered the glimmering diamond. "And it happens to be dear to my heart. We can't do much for our men so I cannot pass up the chance to do something when it's presented."

Mrs Hughes suppressed the urge to cover the Countess's hand with her own. "If your ladyship is sure, then it would be greatly appreciated."

Cora glanced up, her eyes suddenly swimming. She nodded, her lips upturning slightly. "Yes," she whispered. Placing her cup down, Cora rose from her seat. "Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."

"Goodnight, milady, sleep well" Mrs Hughes called, "and milady?"

Cora stopped and turned, waiting for Mrs Hughes to continue. "I wouldn't call running a house like Downton 'doing nothing' for his lordship. It must be a great comfort to him to know it's in your capable hands."


	6. Chapter 6

_16 June 1900_

_Dearest Robert,_

_I was quite relieved to get your latest letter. I fervently hope that your predictions are right and that tides seem to be turning in our direction over there. The sooner we have you back, the sooner we can all sleep sounder. I hope you are taking care of yourself as best you can. One cannot go a day without reading how malaria, even more than battle, is wiping out our men in that desert._

_Everything at home is quiet. Except for the girls, perhaps. They have gone a little wild in your absence. Cora's ideas of decorum and acceptability are, of course, much different than my own and I fear she is letting them rule the roost. Darling Sybil will be a full blooded cowboy by the time you return. I've never seen a child with so much….energy. The American influence is strong in your youngest._

_Cora has taken to fundraising for some of the maids in the area. They are making handkerchiefs to send to the soldiers abroad, and while I commend her charity, I think there is a serious matter you should be made aware of. Her enterprise has brought her into contact with a Mrs Coolidge. Her husband just bought Rothby House. She's an older woman and Cora has become fast friends with her. I dare say she is feeling lonely and in need of companionship and is want for someone other than myself to talk with, but I've done some inquiring and this Mrs Coolidge is entirely inappropriate. Her husband stays in London. She's apparently been banished to the country, due to some liaison I'm sure. I think she is taking advantage of Cora's naivety, good nature and status in the county. In your next letter you must turn her off of this friendship. I hate to put this burden on you when you've more pressing matters to attend to, but I fear you are the only one she will listen to in this matter._

_Take care son, and be safe._

_With fondness,_

_Mama_

* * *

Cora studied the quarterly reports that Jarvis had brought to her, perplexed. She always had a head for figures. Her father would have her practice her arithmetic in his office while he settled the business's books. She felt a satisfaction summing up her columns, carrying numbers, dividing fractions. And what she was left with was either right or wrong, no room for interpretation or debate, no gray area waiting to throw it all off balance. Especially when pitted against Harold, racing to calculate the problems her father gave them as a competition, Cora felt proud speeding through her work while Harold labored.

Looking at the mess before her, she had none of that old swelling in her chest that came with being smarter than her brother. Now just the sharp twist of fear as she calculated the numbers together once more, to make sure that she understood the estate to be close to the red, everything adding up to money going out like water with only a slight trickle coming back in. Cora pressed the bridge of her nose, an attempt to relieve the pressure throbbing below the surface. She may have a talent for arithmetic but she could not pretend to know the first thing about husbandry or tenant farming. Frowning, Cora puzzled over Robert's depth of awareness of the financial storm Downton was heading toward.

Even more concerning had been the way Jarvis bristled when she tried, as tender footed as she could, to point out her observations. There weren't many disparaging remarks he could come outright and say and hope to remain in his position. His annoyed dismissal of her input as he stiffly gathered his things and viciously tugged his hat on, and his mutterings about Lord Grantham's wishes however, told her exactly what he thought of her meddling.

Wearily closing the books, Cora exited her sitting room, distractedly thinking about the books she had seen a hundred times standing erect on the library's shelves. Specifically, she was certain there were at least half a dozen books on estate farming that she could attempt to reference. Lost in thought, she was only half aware of the shouting happening in the great hall.

"Mama!" Mary's crying of her name shook her out of her own head. Mary was uncharacteristically flushed, angered to the point of tears, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Little Patrick looked at Cora with wide eyes as she approached and he seemed to shrink back as she put a light hand on Mary's shoulder.

"What is it darling?" Cora soothed. At her touch, her serious, reserved daughter buried her head in her skirts as though a babe Sybil's age and cried heavily. Feeling a surprised panic at Mary's rare tears, Cora crouched down and held her daughter tightly.

"Say it isn't true!" Mary whispered between her stuttering breaths.

"What, my love?" Cora asked, pushing her away slightly and cupping her face in her hands. She swiped away the tears that had left streaks down Mary's porcelain cheeks.

"Cousin Patrick…" Cora looked over Mary's shoulder at the frightened little boy who stood frozen still. "He said Papa was going to die in Africa."

Cora's fingers clutched Mary a touch harder at her words. Patrick began to shuffle from one foot to the other and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He refused to meet her eyes but she could see his as they studied the floor, the irises beginning to swim at the punishment surely waiting for him.

"Mary," Cora turned back to her daughter, caressing her hair and stretching her face into a false smile. "No one knows what war will bring, but Papa is doing his very best to stay out of danger and come back to us and we must trust him."

Mary's crying had stuttered out and she nodded her head firmly at Cora's words. She turned to her cousin and squared her shoulders, leveling him with a cold stare so reminiscent of her grandmother's that Cora coughed behind her hand in an attempt to cover up her chuckling.

"Now Patrick, perhaps you should be sensitive to your cousin's feelings. She's very worried about her Papa, as you would be, so if you could kindly keep your thoughts to yourself I would appreciate it." Cora said evenly, though really she wanted to take the spoiled child by the ear and drag him off to his parents for a scolding, as if that would help. "You won't be able to come back to Downton if you cannot follow that rule."

Patrick's eyes turned stricken and indignant. "You cannot do that!"

Cora's brows drew together and she clenched her jaw. "If you continue to upset Lady Mary I most certainly can."

Patrick opened his mouth to say more, than thinking better of it, clamped his lips together and turned on his heel, racing to the back gardens. Mary slipped her hand in her mother's and she tugged lightly, getting her attention. Cora's features softened as she faced the little girl who kept pulling until she stooped in front of her once more.

"Mama," Mary began, her eyes boring into Cora's, searching.

"Yes," Cora responded.

Mary licked her lips and huffed a deep breath, looking away for a moment. "Patrick also said we would be made to leave Downton. If Papa doesn't come back."

The air in Cora's lungs stung as she held it. Her stomach lurched as Mary's confused sorrow was displayed across her face. "Is it true?" The nine year old asked quietly.

_How can I lie? _Cora wondered, looking into her daughter's pleading eyes. They began to well up again, her sturdy little chin quivering as she held back her emotions. Cora was shocked by the urge she had to take that boy and shake him until he sobbed for forgiveness. The sight of her strong child on the verge of tears for a second time making her want to roar with fury.

Feeling the sting of her own tears Cora willed them away and took Mary's hands in her own. "Why don't we go into the drawing room? You can take your tea with me today instead of the nursery and we can talk about what Patrick said."

Mother and daughter walked hand in hand to the drawing room until Mary stopped short. "But is it true? That we would have to leave our home?"

Cora sighed, leading Mary to one of the couch's and sitting down. "If something happens to your father, than someone else will become earl, Mary, that's how the title works. And whoever becomes earl lives in Downton. It's our home, true, but we are just taking care of it until the next earl takes it over."

Mary's lips puckered. "But won't it be me?"

Cora tilted her head, shaking her head sadly. Really, it should be Violet or Robert explaining this to Mary. She still didn't think any of it made sense or was an ounce fair. "No darling. Only male members of a family can inherit titles and land and money."

"But you inherited loads of money! It's why Papa married you." Mary countered.

Cora sat back, abruptly. "Who told you that?"

"Patrick," Mary replied.

"Ugh, I am going to need to speak to James and Camilla about that's boy's liberal use of his tongue," Cora growled. "Yes, darling, I did inherit money from your grandfather, but in America, it's done differently."

"But I don't have any brothers!" Mary pointed out. "Who will become earl?"

Cora paused a moment before saying, "Cousin James. And then cousin Patrick."

"No!" Mary yelled, stomping her foot. "That isn't fair!"

"Darling," Cora said softly, trying to lay a calming hand on Mary's arm but she took a step back, shaking her head.

"I can't believe it! I cannot believe it!" Mary cried, her shoes clattering across the wooden floor as she ran out of the drawing room and up the stairs.

Sighing, Cora shook her head before burying it in her hands. "Oh Robert," she whispered, so many things wanting to be said in the silence of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

_2 July 1900_

_My darling Cora,_

_I don't know quite where to start in this letter. To say I am sorry to hear about Patrick's behavior seems inadequate, but of course I am. But more, I am reproaching myself for not being there for your talk with Mary. Perhaps it was for my own benefit that I put off that very delicate conversation, convincing my conscious that she was too young for such heady topics as succession and primogeniture. I never wanted to leave it in your hands, darling. But now that you've had the very unpleasant job of explaining things to her, maybe we should revisit Mama's suggestion about uniting Mary and Patrick. I do not want to upset you, dearest, but I just ask you consider this option._

_It seems this entire letter will be filled with unpleasantness and I hate that any of the infrequent correspondents that we have would be about anything less than my affirmations of adoration for you, but Mama has written to me about a situation. You mentioned in your last letter becoming friendly with a Mrs Coolidge and I am so glad that you are meeting people and carrying on in my absence. I cannot appreciate how you must be feeling at Downton. Mama is concerned that you not feel lonely but also worried that this woman is not entirely appropriate. I don't know all of the particulars, and perhaps you should speak to her more about them, but you are kind hearted and sometimes a little too quick to see the best in people and I fear someone taking advantage of that. Just be wary._

_If you've gotten this far without burning this letter then know that you occupy my thoughts constantly. I dream of you and find myself referencing something you've said or a cherished memory of the two of us so much that I'm almost embarrassed. Poor Bates has had to listen to my lovesick schoolboy musings on more nights than he cares to, I'm sure. Please be well, and do not worry yourself about me or the financial matters you mentioned. I'm sure it will all keep until I get home, which will hopefully be soon. I trust Jarvis to keep things as they've been, not that I do not trust you! On the contrary, it's only that it's all very confusing at times and there is so much nuance that goes into dealing with the farmers and contracts and exchanges that it will cause you undue stress. Keep a watch on the books and if anything looks very terrible we will address it. _

_Give the girls hugs and kisses from their dusty papa and I love you, dearest, so very much. It's a ridiculous admission that this Englishman can write that far more liberally than he can say it, and I hope to amend that when I see you again._

_Yours,_

_Robert_

* * *

Cora sat straighter as the gentle rocking of the carriage heralded her arrival at Rothby House. Once the driver came around, she took his offered arm and stepped carefully down onto the gravel. She took a moment to peer up at the house before her. It was her second visit, and inside and out, Rothby House was as sumptuous and intimidating as Downton, only on a smaller scale. Sometimes, it still caught her off guard that this was her life, coming and going from one grand estate to another, roaming the halls of homes boasting hundreds of years of history.

Antonia Coolidge stood in the massive doorway of Rothby House, her hands folded in front of her as she waited for Cora to enter. Greeting each other cordially, Cora found herself involuntarily scrutinizing her friend's back as she followed her inside. Robert's letter was fresh in her memory. At first she had been angry, at her mother in law for her insinuations and then at Robert for not trusting her judgement. But after internalizing the letter Cora had to admit that there was something about Antonia that wasn't quite right, at least when compared to all the other Englishwomen she had met over the last decade. At first Cora rationalized Antonia's behavior, which, in its tendency towards brashness and over familiarity was reminiscent of her own mother's, as a response to her Americanness. It didn't take long for Cora to find out that her new friend acted bold and vaguely inappropriate around everyone.

The only time Antonia had been subdued, Cora recalled as she pretend to listen to her hostess's latest nugget of gossip, was during the first fundraiser held at Downton. She had brought her old frocks like the other ladies of the county and had demurely ate tea sandwiches, content to smile shyly and stay mostly quiet, as one would expect a newcomer. Cora had been fooled into thinking she was something other than the snorting woman sitting across from her, scandalously joking about the affairs of Lady Merton. She should get up and leave, refuse to hear anymore. Lord Merton was, afterall Mary's godfather. But however crass Antonia Coolidge was, however much Violet may not approve, the fact remained that when Cora was in her company, she could chuckle a little, forget that Robert may never come back, that her three children could be fatherless and virtually penniless. She could take a break from the loneliness of Downton and the stress of the estate's affairs. Antonia expected nothing more from her than an ear to talk into.

"Cora, are you alright?" The nasal intonations of the woman across from her startled Cora from her musings and she shook her head self-consciously.

"Ofcourse! I'm sorry. I haven't been very good company this afternoon." Cora apologized.

"Nonsense!" Antonia said, waving her hand as though batting the words away from them. "You've a great deal to occupy your thoughts. I hope they all appreciate the effort you are exerting. Although, I only had to meet your mother-in-law that once to ascertain that she is not one to notice when one is succeeding. Only when one is failing."

"She's a shrewd woman," Cora replied diplomatically. "But she's fair and if nothing else she loves her grandchildren and would do anything to help them."

"But not her daughter-in-law? The woman who gave her said grandchildren?" Antonia asked, her eyebrows raised.

Cora snorted lightly, "It is complicated. Let us leave it at that."

Antonia held her gaze for a moment before nodding and fixing her eyes briefly on a photograph displayed on the table behind the sofa they sat on. A handsome young man looked back from the black and white image. He was dressed in the uniform of the British Army and his square chin and high cheekbones were a copy of Antonia's features. To Cora's knowledge, her friend had never spoken of any children. Chancing a look to the woman, Cora saw that she was studying her, appraising her. Cora swallowed, suddenly feeling as though she had stumbled upon a great secret meant to be buried.

"Handsome fellow," Cora said shyly, needing to cut the silence that had blanketed the room.

"My housekeeper's boy." Antonia explained carefully. "He worked for us as a handiman too. Practically grew up in our London house, so of course we are all very fond of him. He's fighting in Africa alongside Lord Grantham."

"Ahh," was all Cora could muster. She watched Antonia's eyes trace back along the photograph again, the hard blue irises turning soft for a moment before she looked away.

* * *

"Telegram for you, milady." Carson announced as she walked into the house unclipping her hat from her head.

"Thank you Carson," Cora said absently, taking the paper from his hands and walking up the stairs while reading the contents.

_Come to London on next train. Mama will stay with the girls. It's all worked out so do not think of backing out. Rosamund._

Cora shook her head, finishing the telegram just as her mother in law entered the house. From the gallery, she could hear Violet's skirts rustling briskly into the house, her clothes sounding almost as annoyed as Cora knew her mother in law must be feeling. Being summoned to Downton for a slumber party with her grandchildren was not high on Violet Crawley's list of engagements fit for a dowager. Immediately, Violet began taking over, directing Carson as to which room should be made up for her and ordering Mrs Hughes be brought up to discuss the menus for the time she would be there. Cora amended her previous thoughts, suspecting that perhaps the dowager was inwardly more pleased than she would ever let on at being in charge at Downton once again, if only for a few nights.

Quietly slinking into her room, Cora pulled the cord for her maid half-heartedly. Rosamund's telegram was mysterious and Cora was not sure she felt up to spending any time in London with her sister and brother in law. She got on with them well enough, but she and Rosamund had never been great confidants, Robert's sister containing too much of Violet's personality for Cora to ever feel truly at ease in her presence. Without the distraction of other family members, Cora didn't think there would be much common ground between them, but it seemed rude to not accept the invitation that had been thrust upon her.

Sighing, Cora resigned herself to a few days of forced politeness and stilted conversation. No doubt Rosamund would invite any number of her snobbish friends, all of whom would pretend to take great interest in her countess sister-in-law, leaving their more derisive observations for when she was no longer in earshot. She would much rather stay at Downton and tend to the affairs under her roof. The state of their finances continued to plague her, contrary to Robert's pacification. The girls always seemed to need something, and she was often called upon to play referee, mother, father and monster-banisher. And then there was Mary, who still barely spoke to her after their talk. Like most of Robert's family, Mary held her responsible for not bringing a boy into the world. Unlike the rest of the Crawleys who hid their disdain over her failure as a wife behind pursed lips and veiled comments, her eldest had come out and said what she thought when pressed, days after she had stormed off.

_You should have made me a boy, Mama! _It was said with all the anger and contempt her nine year old could muster before she once again stomped off to be alone.

No...Cora felt like going to London not one bit, sure she would be unable to muster up the energy to keep up with Rosamund and whatever it was she held in store for her.

* * *

Rosamund's house was eerily quiet when Cora arrived, Jenkins following behind. She had thought it odd that just the coach had met her at the station but for Rosamund's butler to be the only one to greet them once at Painswick House seemed just shy of rude. She supposed Marmaduke would be at the office, but surely Rosamund was expecting her. She did, afterall, telegram ahead to inform her sister-in-law of the time of her train.

Feeling increasingly put out, Cora made her way to the set of rooms she usually occupied when visiting. Jenkins began laying out her clothes from the cases the footman had deposited and Cora slipped her fingers out of her gloves methodically, wishing to turn around and book the next train back to Downton. Finally looking up from her task, a large box which had previously gone unnoticed on the bed caught her attention. Tilting her head, Cora went to it, carefully unfurling the big ribbon encircling the white cardboard.

Fine, rose colored tissue paper concealed whatever laid in the box. Atop the paper was a small, cream envelope with no markings. Smiling to herself, intrigued, Cora turned the square over and loosened the flap, freeing the note inside.

"Oh," she gasped, covering her mouth, the words trembling on the cardstock they were written on. She could feel the pulse in her neck quicken, her blood warming and throbbing uncomfortably under her skin. Her breath hitched, her head suddenly light, her feet leaden. She knew this writing, knew its precise lettering, its tight font, words extending into a ruler-straight line.

_Put this on. _

Parting the folds of the tissue paper, Cora found the most delicate silk and lace peignoir and negligee. She rolled the fabric between her fingers, dreamlike, before she shook herself and frantically began undoing the buttons of her overcoat.

"Jenkins. Jenkins, help me please!" Cora beckoned her maid, who had just finished unpacking her bags.

Jenkins made quick work of her dress and corset and her face remained unreadable as Cora pointed to the nightdress spilling out of the box. The silken gown kissed her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. Cora shivered, anticipation gripping her nerves. Once Jenkins left her room, she paced the floor, taking deep breaths. Where was he? Why was he making her wait so incredibly long? She wanted to weep with the need to see her husband. It was only on her third pass across the room that she noticed the bottle of champagne propped in a bucket of ice, two glasses waiting on the side. Cora popped the cork, poured two generous glasses and took a sip, falling back into one of the chairs in the room and closing her eyes. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

The creaking of the door echoed in the room and Cora's eyes flew open, and suddenly he was there. In his silk pajamas, as though he had come with her on the train for a holiday instead of making the weeks long trek on train and boat from a continent away. For a moment she wasn't sure her legs would hold her but she pushed up anyway, standing, unable to take her eyes off of him. Robert. He was really there. Thinner. Tanner. But hers.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," Robert said, his voice husky as his eyes left hers and traveled down, lighting her body with his adoring gaze.

"Oh Robert!" Cora breathed, a throaty laugh escaping through her happy tears.

They both moved at once, meeting in the middle of the bedroom. Cora gripped Roberts biceps as his arms went to their usual place around her waist. He pulled her tight against him and Cora thought her heart would burst. She thought it would quite literally burst from her chest as it experienced an emotion it hadn't in so many months. Joy, in its most pure, unbridled form. When his lips finally captured her own, she meant to moan, but the moan quickly unleashed everything that she had been concealing, every fear and worry and longing, and that moan became a sob and once that sob was given life it consumed her. She was so very happy, sure in his arms that she had entered heaven, but the happier she felt the harder she cried, all the while Robert pressed his calloused hands to her back, steadying her while drinking her tears.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you, thank you to all who have reviewed, read, followed and favorited! This chapter is shorter than my usual because I really wanted this scene to kind of stand alone. Just a quick little romp with Cora and Robert. Some sexy time ahead.**

in the stillness of the darkened room, Robert gripped the pillow under his head, staring at the wall across from him, tension drawing his shoulders toward his ears. The gentle cradle of the feather bed under him and the soft blankets covering him could not relax him to sleep. In fact, the pleasantness of his current accommodations only seemed to inexplicably heighten his anxiety. Robert moved carefully upon the mattress as he turned toward the middle. Even in the inky blackness, he could make out Cora's features. She slept as she always did, on her stomach, hugging her own pillow close, her forearm pressed under her cheek pushing her lips into a slight pout. Stray curls framed her sleeping face, and the steady puffs of her breathing created a music in the room that he had longed to hear all of these months away.

And even though he was now laying beside Cora, after an exhausting journey back, after an afternoon and night of drinking and eating and loving her body desperately and then devotedly, sleep still eluded him. When he closed his eyes, thousands of miles away from Africa, he found he could not leave that continent behind. His responses seemed even more primed in serenity as he listened for some sign of trouble or attack, unable to shake the feeling of being in danger.

Sighing, hoping to alleviate the tightness in his chest, Robert reached out, curling an arm around Cora's waist. Her lips twitched upward, her smile sleepy, as she automatically rolled over to her other side and backed into him, fitting into the curve of his body. Robert buried his nose into her hair as she intertwined her fingers through his, their joined hands resting on the rise and fall of her belly. He held her tightly, feeling some of knots in his muscles loosen. He kissed her neck softly and she murmured his name faintly, reverently. Oh how he missed her, missed the feel of her, the taste of her. Robert closed his eyes, forcefully pushing away the images that always appeared when his lids lowered, those of deserts and dust and men writhing in pain and blood. He focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Cora's chest in the circle of his arms, of the sweet hum of her breathing and her delicate scent. Sleep came, finally.

* * *

Cora panted hard, her racing heart gradually, beat by beat, slowing to it's normal thrumming. Her limbs felt sluggish and there was a hint of the soreness to come after making love yet again to Robert, but she laid on her back, wearing a content smile and watching Robert, through heavy lidded eyes, as he hovered above her, tracing patterns over her naked belly. His fingertips glossed lightly over the hills and valleys of her ribcage, making her squirm as he tickled her.

"You've gotten thin," Robert observed, his brows drawing together, accenting the lean lines of his face.

"That's the pot calling the kettle…" Cora replied, playfully brushing his hand away but Robert would not be deterred from his exploration, now in the light of the morning, now that he wasn't so preoccupied with just feeling her around him. His hand snaked down the shallow of her belly and cupped the protrusion of her hip.

"Yes, but I am at war, we aren't exactly treated to seven courses every evening. You're downright bony, Cora." Robert lowered his face closer to hers, his blues eyes searching intensely. "You aren't ill, are you? You would tell me if there was something the matter."

"Robert," Cora huffed, pushing herself up and wrapping the the blankets around her more tightly. She shrugged her shoulders and held up her hands. "I'm not ill, darling, just...busy I suppose."

"You need to take care of yourself," Robert said, stroking her cheek. "You cannot worry yourself sick."

"And I'm not," Cora chided softly, covering his hand with her own. "I'm fine, really. I cannot deny that I am anxious for you, for the children. But I'm not going to fall apart at any moment."

"I know," Robert drew out the words, bowing down to capture her lips with his. "My brave cowboy."

Cora chuckled lowly and placed her arms around Robert's shoulders, pinning him down to her and deepening their kiss. Robert began to caress her side, his fingers roaming the expanse of her exposed flesh as he pushed away the sheets. Cora moved her legs, allowing him to settle closer to her and she felt his arousal grow once more, her own building in a steady surge. His touch was maddeningly tender this time, as though he held something incredibly fragile and she groaned in mock frustration.

"I'm not porcelain," she growled, biting down on his earlobe to demonstrate her point. Robert's hips bucked harder against her center as he teared away the barriers of bedding between them.

"No…" Robert acknowledged between the path of kisses he left on her neck, "you are flesh…." His lips moved across her clavicle, licking the hollow of her throat, "and blood." He moved lower, sucking at her nipple greedily, making her shiver with need. "And deliciously alive."

Cora's breathing grew shaky, her body more than ready for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer until he sank into her. She exhaled contentedly until the grinding of his hips created a cloying friction and she began to move her own body, increasing the heat between them until her head was spinning and she could feel herself swirling close to the edge of pleasure.

"I love you Robert Crawley," Cora moaned as his thrusting grew to a fevered rate and he dove into her faster and faster, both crying out as they climaxed in unison.

"And I you. So very much." Robert mouthed into her hair, blanketing her for a moment with his full weight.


	9. Chapter 9

_15 August 1900_

_Dear Mother,_

_Thank you very much for the warm birthday wishes and for the gift, although a check in the amount you sent is far too extravagant for a thirty-second birthday. I know what you are doing and I appreciate your concern. It's a concern that is with me daily as well and while I know that Robert has made some provisions for us in his will I still fear what will happen to us if the worst should happen. During this past year, I have realized the true extent of what a privileged life we have all led. I've taken for granted that my comfort would never be taken away, that I would never have to worry about where I would seek shelter and how I would feed my children. I never imagined that I would be a widow, nevermind while my girls were still young. But these are the realities that plague me, mother. Even when I am engaged in some task, these thoughts sit at the edge of my mind, waiting for the briefest moment of quiet, so that there is no time for stillness, only duty, and worry and exhaustion._

_I'm sorry. I don't mean to burden you and I should just toss this and start again, but truthfully, and I hope you do not find me impertinent for writing it, but I haven't the time to construct a whole new letter. Robert is home! For three glorious weeks. We spent time in London, as his chief reason for leave was to address the House of Lords and speak on behalf of the war office for more financial support. Since that business has finished he has been back at Downton. The girls are over the moon at seeing him again. I only wonder, though, if it will make it more difficult for them to say goodbye again. _

_We've only a few more days together and already I am looking ahead with trepidation to the day he will leave. _

_I must be off. We are taking a picnic by the lake and the girls are calling for me. Take care, mother, and send Harold my best._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Cora_

* * *

Cora sat comfortably on the blanket in front of the newly bloomed heather. The landscape was verdant and lush, the chirping of birds and the low buzz of insects filling the air along with the mossy fragrance of plants and trees. Milford Lake was vibrating with life and the August sun created a halo of warmth in all of the places it touched. The infectious sound of laughter shook her from her idle and she squinted into the sun, adjusting her hat to see what had the girls roaring so loudly.

Robert stood in the lake in his bathing costume. From the distance she sat, he looked like an exotic prince, glistening and muscled and browned by the hot desert sun. He held onto the small wooden canoe that the girls were perched in. Cora felt her legs tense underneath her, ready to jolt up as she watched Sybil's chubby arms flail at her sides while Mary and Edith playfully rocked the boat. Robert looked to her, his smile calm as one hand patted through the air, motioning for her to sit, placating her nerves, and Cora sighed out her apprehension knowing he would keep the girls safe. He waded through the water, walking along and pushing the boat that contained their children as they squealed and dipped their hands in the water, splashing one another playfully. Cora laughed to herself, her heart light at seeing the girls. They hadn't seemed so carefree in such a long time.

"Mama! Mama!" Edith's high pitched voice carried across the breeze.

"I see you darling!" Cora called out, waving above her head. She wished she could wrap her arms around this day and never let it go.

* * *

"Mrs Hughes seems to be a very competent addition to the staff, my dear. Well done!" Robert commended before taking a sip of his whiskey.

"I'm glad you think so. Now we just need a proper cook." Cora replied, flicking her shoes off with her toes and lifting her legs up, resting her limbs in Robert's lap.

Robert raised an eyebrow in her direction before placing his drink down and massaging her stockinged foot. "You've grown quite daring, Lady Grantham. Must be the scandalous company you're keeping."

Cora groaned. "Oh please let's not talk about Antonia Coolidge!"

Robert rubbed the flesh around Cora's ankle bone. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it. I've said all I needed to in the letter."

"Good." Cora sank back on the sofa as Robert's hand wandered higher on her leg. The opening of the library door made her sit up immediately, swinging her legs down while Robert hastily smoothed out the fabric of his pants.

"Carson, I thought we dismissed you," Robert spoke to the intruder, his voice rough with irritation.

"Oh, I'm sorry my lord," the nasal voice of Nanny replied instead of the butler and Cora turned quickly, seeing the woman carrying a sniffling Sybil.

"What's the matter, darling?" Cora cooed as Sybil began to cry fresh tears, pushing away from Nanny and reaching her arms out for her mother. Once in Cora's arms, Sybil buried her head in her mother's chest.

"She had a bad dream, milady, and wouldn't calm until I brought her to you. I was afraid she would wake Lady Mary and Lady Edith." Nanny apologized.

"It's all right, darling. It was just a dream."

Robert watched, mesmerized, as Cora whispered in their youngest's ear. Sybil's giant tears slowed as she looked into her mother's face, solemnly listening to every word. A fragile smile twitched on the child's lips after several minutes of rocking and Cora placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. Carefully, she slid Sybil to her feet, giving her one last squeeze before passing a hand over her hair.

"Give your Papa a kiss, darling, and then sweet dreams," Cora instructed quietly. Sybil toddled over to him, her eyes peering up at him through her long lashes, the tears she had shed still lingering on the tips. Robert hugged her tightly before placing a kiss on her head.

"Good night, darling Sybil." Robert said as she took Nanny's hand and walked with her out of the room.

"Does that happen often?" Robert asked once the pair were gone.

"Not often," Cora said, thinking for a moment. "She wakes more than Edith and Mary ever did at her age, but I wouldn't say it's frequent."

"The girls are very reliant on you, Cora." Robert stated carefully. Cora drew her shoulders back, in the way she did when squaring herself for an argument, and Robert held up his hands, attempting to defuse the sudden ire he saw flash within her eyes.

"I am their mother, Robert. Why shouldn't they be reliant on me?" Cora asked, her voice clipped.

"Of course you are. And you are a wonderful one at that. I just wonder if it's natural." Robert explained.

"Well," Cora huffed, "where I'm from, it's the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps it is _your _view on the matter that is the unnatural one."

"You could be right," Robert conceded, not wanting to fight with his wife, not when he only had two more nights at Downton. "I can't say I remember ever going to Mama when I had a nightmare."

"No doubt. I daresay she was the cause of most of them," Cora said, biting her lip to hide the mirth her reply gave her. Robert looked at her before bursting out with a chuckle.

"You are impertinent!" Robert growled before circling his fingers around her arms and pulling her to his chest. He studied her eyes for a moment, making sure her anger was gone, before lowering his head to hers and kissing her deeply. Cora responded to his attention, settling closer to him, running her hands over his chest while never breaking the contact their lips had. Robert's caresses grew more demanding, his low grunts a sure sign of his building arousal.

Cora granted him one last, long kiss before reluctantly pulling away. Robert groaned disappointedly as she sat back, his lips still puckered.

"We are meeting with Jarvis early in the morning dear. It's probably best to go to bed." Cora said.

"You are such a task master!" Robert complained before standing up. He held his hand out, pulling her to her feet once she took it. He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, before breaking the contact once more and leading her out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

"Mr Jarvis, the fact remains that this summer has been an exceedingly dry one and the crops have suffered. The irrigation systems for most of the farms are out of date." Robert sat back a swell of pride filling his chest. He nodded slightly, encouragingly, as Cora's eyes darted to his for reassurance before she continued. "I've spoken to many of the farmers whose yields have been effected, and they have outlined what would be required to modernize."

"Lady Grantham," the patronizing way that Jarvis extended the end of her title made Robert grit his teeth. Jarvis shrugged his shoulders dramatically, looking from Robert to Cora, "you say the estate is spending at a rate it cannot support and yet you propose these drastic upgrades that will cost thousands. One bad summer is not a reason to reorganize the infrastructure."

"Mr Jarvis, but this will be an investment," Cora replied, her nerves causing her to clench her hands. "We must-"

"If you will forgive me, Lady Grantham, perhaps you should leave the estate management to Lord Grantham and I while he is home and concentrate on the upcoming church bazaar." Jarvis suggested, folding his hands across his chest.

Robert took a step closer to Cora, placing a hand on her shoulder blade. "I think you need to remember yourself, Jarvis." Robert interjected cooly. The smile left the other man's face and he swallowed hard.

"I meant no disrespect, milord-"

"Perhaps you did not mean it but disrespect is exactly what you just showed. I've already looked at Lady Grantham's notes, her research into contractors that can upgrade the irrigation and I myself have spoken to some of the farmers in need of new systems. This is happening." Robert's voice was firm in a way that Cora had never heard before. It was the voice of a man who commanded an army into battle.

"Yes milord," Jarvis mumbled before collecting his papers hastily.

"And Jarvis," Robert said, "as I've already told you, Lady Grantham is who you report to while I am away. I don't want to hear of any other instance where you forget your manners. Or your position."

"Of course, milord," Jarvis stated nervously before rushing out of the library.

"My, but that man is a misogynist." Cora breathed, rubbing her arms.

"You did brilliantly, my dear. Don't let him bully you." Robert instructed, placing a kiss on her cheek. He took her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles lightly. "You'll have to oversee all of this once I'm gone. As well as the church bazaar. Are you sure it isn't too much? I could have James come…"

"No, no," Cora assured him, "it's fine. It isn't as though I need to dig the trenches myself!"

"Jarvis will need much hand holding, I'm afraid." Robert sighed.

"And so I will hold it, and most likely pull him along kicking and screaming," Cora observed, only half jokingly.

* * *

Cora stood on the train platform, watching as Robert directed the man taking his bags. This time she had insisted on accompanying him to the station. As predicted, the girls had a more difficult time saying goodbye then they had when he first left. Mary wept openly in front of Downton and Edith had begged him not to go. Little Sybil, unsure as to what was happening but overcome with the emotions of her older sisters, laid in the gravel and threw a tantrum the likes Cora had never seen from her youngest. The state the girls whipped themselves into had almost held her back at the house. She was torn at leaving them like that, but luckily Rosamund and Marmaduke had come to see Robert off and they quickly attempted to divert the girls attention to the presents they had brought, with a degree of success. When Robert and Cora had left for the station, all three girls had dry eyes, though Mary's remained downturned and sad as she insisted on watching their carriage traverse the length of the drive.

Cora let out a stuttering sigh, her own throat becoming painful with the force of unshed tears. Three weeks had gone by in a blink while he had been with her. If only it would be so once he left. Robert handed in his ticket, and once the last bag was stowed on the train, he turned in her direction, walking to her slowly.

"I must board," Robert said, his voice heavy in her ears. Cora closed her eyes and nodded, leaning into his hands as he placed them on either side of her face.

"No tears," Robert instructed tenderly.

"No tears," Cora repeated, her chin trembling, her eyes still closed. The tears that were banned filled her lids and she blinked several times, pushing them back.

"My darling," Robert crooned, "my own brave cowboy. I do believe it's almost over. Just a little longer and we'll be together again."

"Do you promise?" Cora's voice cracked.

"I do," Robert said firmly before guiding her face to his and kissing her hungrily.

"Be safe," Cora whispered.

"Be well," Robert replied before giving her cheek one final caress. Dropping his hands and pulling down on his uniform jacket, Robert tipped his hat to her before striding down the platform. Cora followed him as he climbed into the train car and took his seat. She jumped when the whistle blew, and walked forward as the train began to move. She continued to walk along side of it, waving. Robert pressed his face to the window and blew her a kiss before the train picked up momentum and sped down the track, taking him away. Cora stayed where she was, her hand covering her mouth, until the smoke cleared.


	10. Chapter 10

**_AN:_ Thank you everyone for all of your recent reviews and for staying with this story this far! This chapter alludes a little to my own head canon that Cora had at least one pregnancy in the four years between Edith and Sybil's birth that ended in miscarriage and that contributed to her pregnancy with Sybil being difficult. **

_21 October 1900_

_Dearest Brother,_

_By now I know that Cora has written you and so very dear congratulations from Marmaduke and myself. Of course we are all doing our best to look after them, but Cora is a bit unstoppable these days. I write this letter from Downton and though she is a bit tired she seems in good spirits and says she feels fit. As a favor, Mama and I are looking for a cook. The assistants have been making do but a proper cook is needed, perhaps someone who will help us fatten our Cora up now. It's a surprise though, so do not give us away!_

_Now you must take very good care of yourself even more than ever. There will be a new Crawley waiting to meet his (hopefully) papa very soon._

_Much love,_

_Rosamund_

* * *

"Mama? What are you doing?" Cora asked trying to sound as congenial as possible. In truth, her patience was as thin as it could be. The landowners were due for their annual meeting in less than a half hour. She had been spending the morning preparing her update on the irrigation upgrade and summoning her courage to deal with an ever hostile Jarvis. A persistent headache that had taken hold of her the night before only seemed to grow in strength as the day drew on. The last thing she needed was Violet's meddling. Carson had followed quickly at her heels after announcing that the Dowager had arrived.

"I thought it wise to attend. To support you of course. Carson, I think I'll sit across from Lady Grantham." Violet ordered from across the dining room table and the butler jumped to rearrange the seating assignments.

Cora's nostrils flared and she took several deep inhalations, hoping to find a level of calm before speaking, only to hold her breath for a moment, before sniffing. "What is that smell?"

"Oh," Violet waved her hand as though swatting away her question, "I've had one of the housemaids add some calla lilies to the floral arrangements. Though I can barely smell them."

Cora's head buzzed, her jaw clamped tight. She clenched and then released her hands. Her sudden anger turned quickly to a detached curiosity as the buzzing grew stronger, drowning out whatever words Violet was mouthing to her. The nausea that she had brushed off that morning as just a product of her headache churned her stomach and the room grew darker as her eyes lost focus. She could feel the sensation of falling before she realized she really was.

Carson's alarmed, "Milady!" sounded far away though he was at her elbows, gently guiding her into one of the dining room chairs. Violet's face swam within inches of her own and Cora couldn't keep her head from bobbing on her neck, it suddenly feeling much too heavy.

"Cora!" Violet commanded. "She's as white as those lilies. Carson, help me with her."

As quickly as the dizziness had hit, it dissipated, leaving Cora disoriented and shaky but aware once more. "I'm fine, really," she insisted weakly, pushing to stand.

"Easy, milady," Carson instructed, holding his arms at either side of her, ready to catch her if she should sway again.

Cora smiled thankfully at him. Violet scrutinized her cautious movements. "I think perhaps we should call Dr Clarkson."

"We can't," Cora replied, "he's in London for a month training medics that will be leaving for Africa. There is some interim doctor at the hospital. Besides, I'm perfectly alright."

Violet didn't move, continuing to regard her skeptically. Cora's smile faltered slightly and then fell as a stronger wave of nausea rolled up her spine. Covering her mouth with her hands she dashed out of the dining room and ran to the downstairs ladies room. The battle she had waged against sickness all morning had finally beaten her.

"Is this the first time you've been ill?" Violet inquired quietly, waiting at the door when she exited.

"Yes," Cora answered slowly. "I haven't felt quite right in a number of days but this is the first for, well...that…"

Violet placed a hand on her forearm, causing her to stop and turn. Violet's features were calm, impassive, but there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "When was the last time you bled, dear?"

Cora bit her lip, "Oh I don't know…" Cora gasped, "Since before Robert came home in August. I've been so preoccupied..." Cora cupped her forehead, a hand instinctively going to her belly.

Violet's thin lips stretched into a hopeful grin. "Well then, you've been working yourself much too hard. You need to rest. And eat!"

"Oh God, could it really be?" Cora wondered. Her heart pounded with excitement and longing and her first thought was to tell Robert. It was only when thinking of him that she felt a stab of fear. What if he never laid eyes on this child?

* * *

If the landowner's luncheon hadn't tapped the remainder of her energy, the fussing of her mother in law would have. The woman was in her bedroom, directing poor Jenkins on all that she would require given her condition, as though Jenkins hadn't seen her through her last pregnancy and Sybil's birth. Cora rested on the chaise lounge, only half paying attention to the two women. Her thoughts were full of Robert and their newest child. She almost couldn't believe the turn. It was all she had wished for in the last few years, and especially once Robert had left, and now that it seemed her wish had been granted, she would be lying if she didn't admit to being a little overwhelmed.

She had been lucky for her first pregnancies, feeling nothing more urgent than a bit tired and achy. Then the miscarriages happened between Edith and Sybil, and though Dr Clarkson had told her after each one that there was no reason to suspect she couldn't have another healthy baby, her pregnancy with Sybil had been a difficult one. The birth even more so.

Surely it was the memory of that time that propelled Violet into action now, but still a part of Cora resisted the coddling. There was no time for sensitivities. The estate needed her, as did the house and the girls. She had put up a fight when Violet had all but took her by the arm and dragged her to her room after the luncheon. Mrs Hughes had been expecting her to go over the date book. But now that she was resting, a warm cloth placed on her still aching forehead and a steaming cup of tea at her side, Cora had to admit that she may be pushing herself just a little too much, especially in light of the baby.

"I'm going to have Carson send someone down to the hospital and bring back this new doctor. We need confirmation and I'm not entirely comfortable with your pallor." Violet said quietly.

"Hmm," Cora mumbled, the restorative promise of sleep glueing her eyes together and wiping out any more thoughts.

* * *

John Bates used the silence to contemplate his companion. They sat watch, staring into the vastness of the desert darkness, ready for some unseen threat. Usually during these nights, John could count on his superior to fill the time with companionable conversation. Leftenant Crawley had been a pleasant surprise to John, much more congenial than any aristocrat John ever had the acquaintance of.

That was until three days ago when a letter had come from England. They had been in Lt Crawley's tent, John repairing the laces on his boots, when the mail clerk arrived. Of course there was nothing for John, there hardly ever was. Vera wasn't the writing type, and for that John was grateful, imagining her letters would only be filled with spiteful recriminations anyway. There was something for Lt Crawley, and from where John sat, he could make out the loopy, graceful penmanship of a woman's hand. Usually letters from home stoked Robert Crawley's mood, invigorating him with a renewed energy that was contagious.

At first, this last letter seemed to have the usual effect. Under the cover of his work, John had kept one eye to the other man as he read. His grin had widened while scanning the page and in the lamplight John had thought he saw the glint of a tear in the corner of his eye. It appeared to be happy news. But the days following saw the leftenant in a quieter state, almost introspective, and dangerously preoccupied.

"Bates?" Robert asked, unexpectedly stirring the stillness. "Have you ever wished to be someplace other than where you are?"

"Yes, milord, I have. Quite often." Bates replied, the truth spoken softly.

"You see, Bates, I've never known the feeling until now. Isn't that strange?" Robert wondered. His eyes remained straight ahead, as though looking for something in the dunes.

"I would say that you have been lucky then, milord." Bates told him.

Robert nodded his head and finally turned to Bates, "I've been very lucky. You've no idea." Robert looked away once more, sighing. "It seems Lady Grantham is expecting our fourth child."

"That is exciting news!" Bates declared kindly. "And she's well, I hope?"

Robert rubbed his chin, a days worth of stubble and grime scratching at his palm. "That's the thing...from what I can tell, yes, but it was my sister who wrote, not Cora."

"Perhaps her letter beat Lady Grantham's." John offered.

"Perhaps...I'd give anything if I could to be there right now," Robert's voice was tight with held back emotion. He cleared his throat.

"Of course you would. You're going to be a father again. You want to meet your new little one." John said.

"It's not that," Robert replied. "Well, I mean, yes I want to meet my child. It's just….it would be utterly disgraceful to talk about this back home, but here it seems...but she had a difficult time last time, with our youngest…"

"And you're worried," John finished.

Robert huffed out a short breath, "Yes."

"Then you have your answer." John pointed out.

Robert squinted in the dark, "To what?"

"Why she didn't write you herself. She didn't want you to worry."

"You're right of course," Robert conceded. "But worry I will. And write her, as soon as we get back to camp." The two men sat in silence once again, each deep within their own thoughts.

"Congratulations, Leftenant." John finally said, smiling at the man who met his gaze.

Robert's face broke out in a large grin, for a moment setting aside all of the concern for himself and Cora and the growing child that this news had brought. "Thank you Bates. Thank you very much!"


	11. Chapter 11

_2 November 1900_

_My darling Cora,_

_I tell myself that of course you've written me about the baby and that Rosamund's letter happened to reach me first. Rosamund is always so eager to be involved in big news after all. But a part of me doubts. A part of me wonders with disappointment if you never intended to tell me. I've tried to parcel out why, and I think you meant to keep me from worry, for that is your nature. To that I say, let me worry about you, let me think on you, for I do anyway. And a baby! It is the most delightful of news. I'm bursting with the thought of it. _

_Now that the truth is known, please don't hide from me. I want to hear all about how you are and how things are progressing. I will not pester you from afar to take care; I trust you will not push yourself to the limits. I also trust Mama will be a pest enough in my absence. _

_You cannot know the joy I am feeling now, and the renewed sense of determination to come back to you as soon as possible._

_Your devoted husband,_

_Robert_

* * *

"Cora, you have to know that if I thought for a moment that you hadn't written Robert, I never would have spoken of it." Rosamund insisted.

Cora kept her eyes on the tea within her cup as she stirred methodically. Despite her sister in law's taste for gossip and intrigue, she did believe her sincerity. Cora nodded her head, acknowledging the unspoken apology in Rosamund's voice.

"I just cannot imagine why you didn't write him immediately." Violet interjected with exasperation.

Cora sighed, blinking at the older woman before looking down again. She ground her teeth together within her closed mouth. Her concerns could not be given a voice, not to these two, who already saw her as weak and failing and unworthy. She couldn't tell them why she had wanted to wait, that she thought it cruel to get Robert's hopes up while he was so far away and fighting. That it was too soon to be so certain.

"I had just thought to wait," Cora replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"Hmph, well, perhaps you should have warned us," Violet scolded.

"Yes, apparently," Cora said quietly, taking a tentative sip of her tea. She looked to the clock on Violet's mantel and discreetly tried to hide her yawn behind her cupped hand. Violet had summoned her for luncheon, but the meal had yet to be announced and Cora wasn't entirely certain she would be able to keep her eyes open for it. A heavy fatigue pulled at her limbs, her corset the only thing keeping her body from slouching in on itself.

"Cora?" Violet asked, the irritation of before gone from her voice as she placed a hand on Cora's.

Cora shook her head slightly. "I'm terribly sorry, Mama, but could you have the carriage called? I don't think I'm quite up to visiting today."

Violet stood, her brows gathering together above the severe slope of her nose. She regarded Cora for a moment before going to the bell pull and ringing for her butler.

* * *

The house was quiet as Cora entered the Great Hall and while it seemed vaguely strange to not see Carson in one of his usual stations or to be greeted by Mrs Hughes with some pressing busines,s it was a welcomed change. She wanted nothing more than to ring for Jenkins, disrobe, and curl up beneath the cool sheets of her bed. Stepping onto the landing, Cora slowly made her way down the gallery to her room when she stopped, holding her breath in concentration. A faint sound, something tugging at her attention, could almost be heard and Cora frowned, trying to puzzle out what it was and why her heart sped up. The slip of a door opening down the hall caused her to turn. Instantaneously, Carson rushed out, followed by Mrs Hughes and the sound that had been barely a sound before filled the previously silent hallway. Cora found her legs running before she was conscious of commanding them to do so as Sybil's piercing cries rose in pitch.

"Milday!" Carson breathed.

"What's happening?" Cora demanded, rushing past them and into the nursery.

Little Sybil was red faced and sobbing, pushing against Nanny weakly as the woman tried to hold her and soothe her with a gentle rocking. At Cora's presence, Sybil cried harder, her arms reaching for her mother who scooped her up immediately, pressing her body close as she swayed back and forth and whispered to the child.

"She woke from her nap like this milady," Nanny explained. "She's frightfully warm."

As Nanny said the words Cora became aware of it, the heat radiating from Sybil's small body. "Has anyone sent for the doctor?"

"We were just about to milady." Carson responded.

"I'll go and tell a footman," Mrs Hughes quickly said before hurrying out of the room.

Cora sat on the rocking chair, cradling Sybil in her arms as her crying slowly lost its intensity, finally fading out into an occasional hiccup. She remained curled in Cora's lap, resting her head on her mother's chest and sucking her thumb, a habit she had long since abandoned. Cora continued to rock her, smoothing back the hair that had begun to stick on her damp forehead.

"It's alright darling," Cora softly told her, holding Sybil closer, resting her cheek on the toddler's silky head and while Sybil had quieted and seemed momentarily soothed, Cora's heart palpitated erratically, a growing alarm turning her stomach.

* * *

"Nothing more than an ear infection, Lady Grantham." Doctor Jefferson informed Cora as they exited the nursery.

"So you are Doctor Clarkson's substitute." Violet observed, somewhat critically. She had arrived on the heels of the doctor, having seen a footman from the house riding dangerously fast in the direction of the hospital and then back with the doctor in tow.

"I am his assistant," Dr Jefferson corrected politely.

"I see," Violet said sharply. "And is this infection a risk to Lady Grantham and the unborn child?"

"No, no!" Dr Jefferson assured. "Rest, broth and a cold compress for the fever. Perhaps a little aspirin powder for the pain, should see Lady Sybil feeling better in no time."

"Thank you very much, doctor." Cora sighed, relief shaking her voice.

Seeing the doctor out, Cora stood, staring at the closed door for a moment, one hand on her hip and another on her forehead. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her exhaustion from before, instantly forgotten when she'd heard Sybil's crying, blanketed her once again.

"Why don't you take that rest now, Cora." Violet's words more of an instruction than question. "Rosamund will sit with Sybil."

Her mothering instincts warred within. She couldn't imagine her baby suffering any pain without being there to comfort her. But now there was another baby, a fragile flutter of life who could not cry for her attentions, who could only hope that her constant care would help it flourish. The conflicting pull made her queasy with guilt.

"I'll lie down for a moment, I think." Cora conceded. "But please get me should Sybil ask for me."

* * *

The weight of her head pulling her neck into a painful curve jarred Cora awake. Groaning at the aching protest of her abused muscles, Cora lifted her head up from the resting place it had found on her chest and tentatively turned it from one side to the other. The clouds of a restless sleep hung over her, making her thoughts hazy. It had been three days since Sybil had taken ill, and although she had seemed improved after the first day, her fever had suddenly come back. Doctor Jefferson had reassured them that time and nursing would see her condition improving but another day of watching her suffer and then become frighteningly lethargic had forced Cora to telegram Doctor Clarkson in London. She had fallen asleep in the chair beside Sybil's bed waiting.

Cora wiped at her eyes, suddenly aware of the dampness on her cheeks. Her tears continued to fall, soundlessly, as she tightened her hold on Sybil's small, clammy hand. She couldn't wrap her muddled mind around how quickly their fortunes had changed, how unprepared she had been. All her focus, all of her prayers went to Robert first, and then their unborn baby. She had never imagined her girls, especially her robust little Sybil, could be as she was now, pale beneath the pink cheeks of fever, her breathing shallow and rapid in her chest.

A soft knock broke through Cora's thoughts and she turned, still clutching her daughter's hand.

"Doctor Clarkson's train has arrived. He sent word from the station he would be here as quickly as possible." Violet's strained eyes left Cora's and looked around her, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening as she took in her granddaughter. There was a momentary flash of something soft and breaking in Violet's eyes. Only a moment and then she lifted her chin higher, squared her jaw, and trained her intense, cool eyes on Cora. "Jenkins says you haven't left here in hours. Haven't eaten."

Cora shook her head, a dull throbbing persisting under the bridge of her nose. "I have no appetite."

"Come." Violet waved her hand. "Before the doctor comes, just something small to regain your strength."

Cora pushed herself out of the chair, too drained and numb for arguments. The quicker she pushed something down the quicker she would be back. It was only when forced to use her legs, to stand upright, did Cora realize how hot she felt, as though she'd sat too close to the fire. She took a deep breath, pulling at the collar of her dress.

"Cora?" Violet's voice rose in concern. She placed a hand on Cora's forehead, the blessed coolness of her thin fingers causing Cora to close her eyes and lean into her touch.

"You're burning up," Violet stated, placing her arm around Cora's waist and quickly guiding her out the door.

Jenkins waited in the hall with a tray and looked bewildered as Violet continued to walk Cora past her. The dowager turned her head and instructed the maid to send Doctor Clarkson to her ladyship's room after he had seen Lady Sybil.

"The baby…" Cora muttered.

"Everything is going to be fine," Violet said, ordered really, as though she could bully a a happy outcome out of the fates.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks to everyone for the reviews! This is a pretty short chapter in terms of this story, but the next ones will be pretty full/action packed so this kind of needed to be on it's own. **

20 November 1900

Dear Martha,

Let me assure you everyone is fine, or as close to fine as one can be in the circumstances we find ourselves. As a mother, I can only imagine that seeing the envelope to this letter with my return address had you tearing at the glue.

I do think, if you have the ability to, you should come to Downton. As soon as you are able to. Cora is recovering...physically, but she needs someone, someone that she trusts and that she can speak plainly with, and I am afraid she does not see me as that person. I know what you are thinking, and yes, I know, it is a situation of my own making and we can quibble about it when you arrive, but arrive you must.

She's been very strong. Perhaps there is more iron in her American blood then I gave her credit for, but circumstances are conspiring to break her and she needs a confidante. She needs her mother.

I hope to see you soon. Whoever thought those words would be a sentiment I experienced.

Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham.

* * *

From her place along the wall, Violet could shift her attention back and forth from the sleeping girl on the bed, who lightly snored on as Doctor Clarkson examined her, to her mother, who sat tense and erect on the end of her chair. Cora bit her bottom lip bloodless, her eyes never leaving the ministrations of the doctor as he checked for fever and listened to the child's breathing.

Violet allowed herself to sag a moment into the sturdiness of the wall while everyone's attention was otherwise occupied. The last few days had been a dizzying assault on her senses and she had been rendered a little breathless by the blows they had been dealt. Dr Clarkson had only to spend a few minutes with Sybil that first night to declare Dr Jefferson's diagnosis erroneous. How he had confused an ear infection with typhoid fever continued to baffle Violet, but what infuriated her, what made her see red, was his incompetence with Cora. She had felt chilled when Dr Clarkson revealed Sybil's true affliction. As soon as he had administered medication to her granddaughter, she had rushed him down the hall, thinking of how hot Cora had felt when she had left her, thinking of the fate of her son's possible son. In low tones, between Sybil's room and Cora's, Violet had explained that Cora was with child, that she had sat by Sybil's side for days, that she was infirm now. The terse line of Dr Clarkson's jaw jangled Violet's nerves. She had hovered while he examined Cora, her breath hitching and then exhaling in relief when he told them she wasn't suffering from typhoid, just exhaustion.

"Lady Sybil is much improved," Dr Clarkson told them quietly, packing his supplies and jolting Violet from her memories. "The fever's down significantly. I'd say a few more days and she'll be climbing trees once more!"

"Thank you Dr Clarkson," Cora said flatly, one side of her mouth quivering up in an attempt to smile, missing the mark, her eyes as flat as her voice.

She had been that way for days now, sitting vigil by Sybil, saying little, her face as expressionless as a statue. It unnerved Violet, and though she was certainly not one for lengthy diatribes on one's emotions and inner feelings, even she knew that Cora could only swallow down her grief and heartache for so long. What she was doing was as unhealthy as if she had cried in her room all day.

Cora rose, leading the doctor out of the room and Violet followed behind, for once, with nothing to say. They had reached the Great Hall, Cora's eyes glazing over and looking somewhere in the vicinity of the doctor's knees as she waited while he struggled into his overcoat. Violet thought to walk him out, hoping to get a moment alone and inquire as to his opinion on Cora's state, when the doctor turned to her daughter in law.

"Lady Grantham, I feel that I owe you a sincere apology." Dr Clarkson looked troubled as the words left his mouth.

"Whatever for, Dr Clarkson?" Cora asked, shaken from her earlier stupor.

Dr Clarkson licked his lips, hesitating. "You see I was in desperate need of someone to fill in while the army required my services. And I feel that had I more time, I would have checked Dr Jefferson's references more thoroughly. His qualifications. I would have, if only…"

"If only what, doctor?" Violet prodded.

"Well he came so highly recommended from someone who said they were a close friend of her Ladyship's." Dr Clarkson rushed on, chancing a glance at Cora.

"What friend?" Cora asked.

"Mrs Coolidge."

"Antonia?" Cora drew out the syllables of the woman's name, her brows knitting together as she shook her head. "She knows this man?"

"She said she had mentioned him to you and so I was careless, thinking he had your blessing." Dr Clarkson explained.

"She never…" Cora trailed off, her head falling low in disbelief for a beat before bringing it up again, a hardness changing the blue in her eyes. "I want that man removed from the hospital, immediately Dr Clarkson. Gone. Today. His incompetence has...has…"

Cora's words faltered, as did the fire that briefly stirred her anger. She felt a quaking begin in the bottom of her chest, her body building up to an onslaught of tears she wasn't sure she would be able to suppress.

"If you'll excuse me," Cora muttered before turning on her heel and fleeing as quickly as her legs would carry her up the stairs.

* * *

The knock on her door was not entirely unexpected, and though her tears had never actually fallen, though she had only achieved dry, pained gasps after closing herself up in her room, Cora did not want to be disturbed. It was altogether too much and she longed to find a piece of respite, though she hadn't a clue where it would come from.

"May I come in?" Violet's voice contained a funny quality, something Cora had never detected in it before. A timidness aimed at her, as though she would skitter off like a frightened deer. Instead of comforting her, it exacerbated the rawness inside her.

"I suppose you are going to tell me I told you so?" Cora asked bitterly, wickedly satisfied at the hurt expression on her mother in laws face.

"Do you really think I would garner any satisfaction in that now, when you are so clearly distressed already." Violet asked softly, walking deeper into the room.

The kindness the older woman was trying to show her, the care, was more destructive to the shaky hold she retained on her emotions than if she had come in with recriminations and blame. Cora knew she could not give in, she could not let it come out or she would be consumed by her sorrow this time. She turned away from Violet, her eyes closed and

she counted silently to ten, inhaling deeply through her nose, until a pretense of calm was achieved.

"I have to write Robert." Cora said suddenly, her voice hoarse from the tightness in her throat. The thought of her husband and his bitter disappointment keeping her up the past few nights.

"And what would you say?" Violet asked kindly, still making her way slowly into the room, closer and closer to where Cora was. "That a charlatan doctor mistook anemia and stress for pregnancy and there never was a baby?"

Cora covered her mouth with her hands, trying to count to ten once more, Violet's words echoing in her mind. There never was a baby. There never was a baby. How could this have happened? How was she to get past this, because in her mind, in her heart, it had been as real as any of her children. And now it, and the hope it had carried, was gone. Not lost, not dead, just gone, like a phantom that never was.

"You cannot tell him, Cora." Violet said, finally standing next to her, reaching out carefully and taking Cora's hand in hers. "You cannot. Not while he is fighting, while his life hangs in the balance."

The idea of lying made Cora cringe, but she knew what Violet said was true. She could not tell him while he was in Africa, a world away, danger at every turn. She squeezed Violet's hand hard, crushing it, hanging on to it like a lifeline and nodded her ascent to continue the lie, even if she was sure that to go on pretending would kill her.


	13. Chapter 13

_1 December 1900_

_My Dearest Robert,_

_I am sorry it's been so long since I've written but things have been quite hectic at home. Sybil was slightly ill, nothing serious in the end. She is perfectly her sweet self once again, but she did need some nursing and so I found myself by her bed mostly. Edith and Mary, thank god, remained untouched through the ordeal. And I am in fine health, so you needn't worry about a thing. _

_Robert, please tell me you are coming home soon. I miss you so dreadfully._

_I apologize for this short letter. It is selfish of me but I fear the act of writing you, instead of being able to walk into the library and have you before me to speak with, is causing a melancholy that I just cannot indulge in at the moment. I know you understand, my love. Please be safe._

_All of my love to you,_

_Cora_

* * *

Cora half listened as Edith chattered on about her mornings lessons, nodding and smiling at appropriate intervals. Sybil paid no mind to either of them, playing with the new finger puppets one of the young housemaids had sewn her during her convalescence. Absentmindedly, Cora swept her hand over the top of Sybil's head, touching her newly recovered child a reassurance of her improved health. Although her favorite time of day was the hour that the girls came down before tea, Cora was too distracted by Mary's absence to truly enjoy her visit with them. Her eldest had been aloof since the episode with Patrick, and while it had pained her before, she found her ability to withstand it crumbling. Cora found her ability to stand anything for too long crumbling.

Before she realized she had spent most of the hour only vaguely aware of the two children with her in the library, Nanny was there to scoop them away for some fresh air. Cora almost stopped her, now that they were about to leave craving their company, but she squashed the urge. She wouldn't be any fun as she was, it would be selfish of her to keep them close when they should be allowed to run and play after a morning full of learning. And things needed her attention. She had volunteered to oversee the decorations for the church's Christmas Bazaar, she was woefully behind on shopping for the girls and the new cook Rosamund and Violet had hired as a "surprise" was due later that evening. Thinking about everything that vied for her attention made her want to escape into her room and lock the door. To think she had welcomed all of the distractions when Robert first left, had even relished in the feeling of being so needed. Now she would sell her soul for an afternoon of peace.

Carson's entrance into the drawing room, followed by a footman carrying her tea, disbanded her thoughts and Cora lifted her chin. "Carson? Have you seen Lady Mary? She didn't come down with the girls."

A ghost of a flicker of Carson's lips betrayed him before he said, "I have, milady."

"Oh?" Cora inquired, curious.

"Lady Mary?" Carson called and Cora turned, surprised to see her oldest daughter walking in carrying a silver serving bowl. She watched as Mary carefully brought it to the side table, her face a serious study in concentration. The lid rattled a bit as she lowered it down. Mary grasped the top's intricate handle and then pulled it off quickly, unmasking a heaping pile of steaming scrambled eggs. Cora raised her eyebrow, not entirely certain what was happening.

"I made them, Mama. For you! Lily in the kitchen showed me." Mary declared, her chest puffed out with pride.

"You made these for me? All by yourself?" Cora asked.

"Indeed milady. I saw it with my own eyes," Carson said, his low voice booming.

Cora found she couldn't speak, picturing Mary in an apron, whisking eggs, doing her task as she did everything, with an intense perfectionism. Out of all her children, she would have never imagined Mary to be the one to voluntarily do something that one of the servants could do. Cora continued to blink at the eggs and Mary began to fidget.

"It's only you've seemed exceptionally sad lately. And scrambled eggs always make me feel better." Mary explained uncomfortably.

"Oh Mary," Cora said lowly, impulsively clasping Mary's hand. A hopeful smile took over Mary's face and she watched intently as Cora filled her fork and placed the fluffy eggs in her mouth. Cora had braced herself, expecting to forcefully swallow the food, pretending that they were delicious. But to her surprise they were indeed quite good.

"Will you have some with me? They are splendid!" Cora patted the seat beside her and mother and daughter continued to eat in silence. The lightness of the eggs encouraged an appetite that Cora hadn't had in days and she eagerly ate alongside Mary.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary said quietly, placing her fork down and looking at her lap.

"Whatever for?" Cora wondered, placing her hand on Mary's shoulder.

Mary looked up, her brown eyes troubled. "I haven't been very nice to you lately. Because of what Patrick said. And I'm sorry."

"Oh darling," Cora comforted, squeezing Mary's shoulder gently, "I know you were just upset. I knew you would come around eventually."

Mary seemed to think about her words before nodding. Cora cupped her chin and held it steady, tenderly. "I love you Mary, no matter how upset or angry you may get."

"I love you too Mama," Mary whispered, her ears turning pink at the admission.

A commotion of sound interrupted Cora and Mary and Cora squinted with confusion, before standing and hurrying out into the great hall, Mary close on her heels. Cora stopped short, disbelieving the scene playing out before her. The footmen wobbled under the many cases of luggage they carried into the house. Mrs Hughes turned in a circle, looking as though lost. And directing all of it was the blunt edged voice she had spent a girlhood being embarrassed of.

"Mother?" Cora interrupted when she got over the shock of seeing her.

"My dear," Martha sang, her lips turning into an exaggerated frown, her usual expression of disapproval. She strode over to her and held her at arm's length, scrutinizing.

"You're pale and skinny and there are bags under your eyes. I see I came just in time." Martha accessed. Before Cora could comment, her mother looked around her at Mary, still standing silently at her mother's side.

"Don't tell me this is little Sybil!" Martha gasped, jokingly.

"It's Mary, Grandmama!" Mary admonished shyly and Martha laughed loudly, a sharp horn of a sound that startled Carson as he walked into the room.

"Of course it is!" Martha patted the top of her head affectionately before bending down for a kiss. "Now why don't you follow my maid, Jones, and perhaps she can find some gifts from New York in grandmama's bag."

Mary clapped her hands and looked to her mother for permission. Cora nodded once and Mary ran after the retreating maid.

"What are you doing here?" Cora asked, still amazed at her mother's presence.

"Well ,that's a fine greeting after a week at sea." Martha huffed, removing her hat.

"It's just a surprise is all. You've never just shown up." Cora said.

Martha handed her hat to a housemaid near by and then took Cora's arm, guiding her toward the drawing room. "You're mother in law wrote to me. She seemed concerned for your wellbeing and naturally for her to be concerned I thought I'd find you either on your death bed or muttering gibberish to yourself in the vein of Mrs Rochester, so naturally I rushed right over."

"Well, as you can see neither is the case," Cora sighed. "I'm fine, Mother."

"Just looking at you I'd say I disagree, but oh well. I'm here now so we might as well make a holiday of it." Martha stated, ending the discussion as she went to the bell pull to ring for tea.

* * *

Martha's arrival had stirred the atmosphere within Downton. The servants seemed beleaguered by the unannounced arrival, her bold and foreign ways unsettling the quiet dignity that normally blanketed everything done at Downton. Edith and Sybil were bouncing with excitement, visiting with their grandmother late into the afternoon as she told them tales and spoiled them with gifts and goodies brought with her from America. Mary regarded the strange visitor with a little more reserve, though by the end of the evening, she too was at Martha's feet, begging for one more story of their mama as a child.

Once dinner had been eaten and the children had been tucked into bed, Cora and Martha relaxed in the library with their brandies. It was only a matter of time before Martha put her drink down and focused her full attention on her daughter. Cora met Martha's own blue eyes steady on at first, but faltered when her mother's gaze turned from inquisitive to worried.

"How have you been dear? Really?" Martha asked softly.

Cora shook her head, crossing her arms over her middle and pressing two fingers to her lips, which trembled under her touch. She continued to look into the fireplace as the embers popped in the silence, until the sounds of Martha shifting in her seat joined the fire's noise. Cora felt the dip in the sofa as Martha sat beside her. It only took her hand placed lightly in between Cora's shoulder blades for the trembling in Cora's lips to take hold on the rest of her body and before she knew it, she was in her mother's arms, crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried like this, her head propped on Martha's strong shoulder, her cinnamon scent as comforting as her embrace. And then suddenly she could, the memory of being in London clear, as was the reason for her tears. It was Robert then too. She was young and in love with her fiance, desperately in love with the man, and he was in love with Downton and the money she would bring to secure its future. The memory only made her sob harder, thinking how far they had come, how much they had built together, and now it all seemed to be falling apart.

"It will be alright," Martha soothed, making passes over Cora's back and rocking her as though she were a child once again. "It will be alright."


	14. Chapter 14

_6 December 1900_

_My dear friend,_

_I wish I could explain to you in person the misunderstanding that has taken place, but you have refused to respond to my invitations. So I feel compelled to write, hoping you will open this letter. I never, never meant any harm. Dr Jefferson is a friend of mine and he was in need of a job. I made the acquaintance of Dr Clarkson at one of the first war fundraisers you hosted at Downton and he happened to tell me he was in need of a stand in while he was on assignment in London. I merely mentioned Dr Jefferson and our own friendship. _

_Please take my words as apology and hopefully we can put this episode behind us._

_Sincerely,_

_Antonia Coolidge_

* * *

"I don't know, there seems to be something missing," Cora said thoughtfully as she studied the flower displays before her.

Violet walked around the table containing the large arrangements, humming in agreement.

"Perhaps…" the gardner stuttered, quickly spinning towards sprigs of holly and plucking two out of their containers before sticking them in the middle of his fur and poinsettia creations.

"That's better," Violet said in approval before turning a critical eye to the garlands spread across the greenhouse's table.

"You best get these to the church, Mr Thomlin, before you have to redo them all," Cora said kindly.

"What?" Violet asked innocently, "I didn't say anything."

Cora raised a knowing eyebrow, watching as the gardner carefully packed his creations in crates to be brought to the church bazaar. She watched the process in silence, and once the man finally left with a tip of his hat, Cora found herself alone with Violet for the first time since her mother's arrival.

"You've been absent from the house lately," Cora stated hesitantly.

"Hmph," Violet responded.

"It's just I haven't had a chance to speak with you," Cora began, picking up a cutting of pine and twirling it in her hands. "I'm sorry I failed at all of this."

"What on earth do you mean?" Violet wondered in shock.

"I mean, that I must have been a great disappointment for you to send for my mother," Cora said quietly, plucking the needles of the pine, the motion somehow relaxing.

"My dear," Violet said, placing a hand on Cora's arm, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. The touch brought Cora's eyes up finally. "Even the strongest structures need a little support sometimes."

Cora smiled and nodded, taking a deep breath. "You were right about Antonia, of course."

"I'm not one to say I told you so when someone is already suffering, but...it's a tangled web that woman has woven." Violet shook her head, emphasizing her displeasure.

"Rosamund told me the gossip in London. Dr Jefferson is her...lover. The maid's son is really theirs!" Cora crossed her arms. "I cannot believe she abused my trust so."

"I do think she cared for you, Cora," Violet offered, "but was desperate to get him settled. Apparently Mr Coolidge was at the end of his generosity and was about to divorce her. And he had made it impossible for Dr Jefferson to find a position in London. The doctor turned to drink and Mrs Coolidge was about to be tossed out, virtually penniless. When Dr Clarkson mentioned he needed an assistant she must have seen it as a gift from Heaven."

"She wrote me, to apologize," Cora revealed, "and part of me wants to forgive, but when I think what could have happened to Sybil, nevermind the other business….to knowingly promote the services of someone so incompetent…I was such a fool."

"Do not be too hard on yourself. You were in need of a friend, and obviously so was she. Luckily little Sybil is as healthy as a young girl should be." Violet said.

"Yes, that is true," Cora agreed, smiling wanly and folding her arms. She looked away, thinking about what could have been.

* * *

Cora watched indulgently from her spot on the sofa, sipping the morning tea that Carson had served them. The girls had gotten the whole house up before the sun had time to rise, eager to see what Father Christmas had brought. They had decorated the library with streams of ripped wrapping paper, tossed bows and brand new toys, their happy voices calling for her to look at a new doll or new frock, holding their presents up proudly for her to see. Martha took Cora's usual role and handed present after present over to the girls.

The winter sun, now up, was muted by clouds that promised snow. Cora glanced at the mantle clock. Rosamund and Marmaduke had slept in, no doubt just waking and the part of her that seemed to be eternally fatigued envied them their prolonged sleep. Violet would arrive soon with her own abundance of gifts.

Her thoughts turned to Robert, as they often did at moments when his absence was most keenly felt. She hoped he was finding a little Christmas respite, that there was some way to celebrate the holiday where he was. A second Christmas missed. A second Christmas apart. She wondered how many more they would have to endure before he came home.

"Milady?" Carson addressed her softly as he swiftly entered the library. She looked up distractedly but got to her feet in a hurry at the pinched, uneasy look upon his face. Following him quickly to the great hall, she stopped short. Two gentlemen waited, looking up at the enormous columns of stone, the arches of the gallery, the decoration. Cora's breath caught in her throat, taking in their crisp uniforms, the medals on their lapels, their shiny boots, so like Robert's.

"Lady Grantham," the older one said deeply, removing his hat at her arrival. "We regret to inform you that Leftenant Crawley-"

* * *

She had left, after they had told her she had heard herself thanking them, as though watching a performance from the box in a theater. She had walked them out. She had felt Carson hovering behind her, saying something, something she couldn't quite piece together. And then she had burst through the door. Without her coat, in just a light day dress. The bitterness of the morning should have left her shivering but she was heated through, suffocating on it. She walked fast, pushing everything away but the crunch of the gravel under her feet. She was only slightly aware of Carson's echoed shouts for her, growing more and more distant as her feet picked up speed. Soon she was running.

It was only when she got to the door that she became aware of where she was. Everything became startlingly, starkly clear and the growing feeling of suffocation took over, so that when the butler opened the door, she couldn't seem to get a full breath. After his initial look of shock, he stepped aside and she stumbled into the house.

"Cora?" Violet gasped as she burst into her mother in law's bedroom, the woman's breakfast tray still bridged over her lap.

"I didn't know where to go," Cora whispered, clasping her shaking hands, her teeth beginning to chatter.

"Cora," Violet said her name carefully, placing her breakfast tray aside and getting up slowly, "what's happened?"

"Robert…" His name came out on the hitch of a breath.

"What's happened to Robert?" Violet's voice rose in volume as she came to where Cora stood.

"He's missing," Cora responded, shaking her head as though she couldn't comprehend the words leaving her mouth. "His unit was ambushed and he's missing."


	15. Chapter 15

Cora couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. For the last two days she struggled with the suddenly restless appendages. They clasped together, they bunched within the folds of her skirts, they tapped out jittery music on hard surfaces. And after too many questioning looks from her mother or Violet, she would go to the library and they would write. Pages and pages of letters to Robert that she could not send. More difficult than keeping the finality of her non existent pregnancy from the girls, a pregnancy they had never known about anyway, was keeping the tone at Downton light and normal after the news about Robert. If she could be thankful about anything, it was that at least it had happened when the house was full. Rosamund and Marmaduke had planned to stay through the new year and Violet had all but moved in, and so when Cora felt herself overwhelmed, when her mind churned fully with the words of the letter she received that morning, she had been able to excuse herself from the group knowing one of them would take the girls attention off of their missing mother.

The letter shook in her hands as she carefully rested it in her lap and smoothed out the creases. Her empty stomach lurched and she let out a shaky breath before reading the words once more.

_10 December 1900_

_My lovely darling,_

_Your last letters have been so short, or so sparse in their regularity, that it makes me fear things are not well. I worry so about you and I wonder if we shouldn't employ James's help now. Things will just get more difficult for you to manage as your condition progresses and all of your strength should be put towards remaining healthy and delivering our little miracle._

_I've dreamt about the baby, and dare I say it's a boy in my dreams! Not that I won't love any child, you must know I will, but in these visions it is a 'he' and he is beautiful, like his Mama! _

_Please take very good care of yourself. I must close this as we are getting ready to move positions. I think perhaps this final push might be the turning point we need. How I long to get out of here and back to you before our little one makes his appearance in the world. Tell him that his papa orders him not to come early! This may be the last letter I am able to write before Christmas so let me wish you a very happy Christmas dearest! Kiss the girls for me and whisper I love you's to the baby from his Papa._

_your devoted,_

_Robert_

Cora lifted the letter, pressing it tightly to her chest and closing her eyes. It's how Martha found her minutes later, sitting on her bed, unmoving, the tears falling down her face in a steady flow of misery. Martha sat down wordlessly beside her and pried her tense fingers off of the letter before Cora let go.

"You didn't tell him about the misdiagnosis?" Martha questioned softly.

Cora shook her head vigorously, "Violet thought it would be too harsh to tell him through a letter."

"She was probably right," Martha conceded.

Cora turned suddenly, her face contorted in grief, "Don't you see? I did this! If I had told him the truth like I wanted to, this wouldn't be happening!"

"I don't understand," Martha said bewildered.

Cora stood and snatched the letter from Martha's hands, waving it furiously, "You read it! He was worried about me! He was thinking about me and the baby! He was careless and now he is missing because he was preoccupied...because of…" Cora's voice wavered and finished in a whisper, "_me._"

Gasping into the hand that had covered her mouth, Cora's corset suddenly felt three notches too tight as her sudden fit of crying left her breathless. She was only marginally aware of sinking slowly to the ground, like a feather floating gently down, when Martha's arms came around her, sinking as well.

"Milady?" The bedroom door opened cautiously, Mrs Hughes peaking from behind it. When her eyes lowered, and she took in the sight of Cora clutching her mother, both women a heap of skirts on the floor, she frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I was walking by and heard shouting. I'll leave you."

"Thank you for checking, Mrs Hughes," Martha said quietly over Cora's shoulder. "Perhaps you could let Lord Grantham's mother know that Lady Grantham is indisposed for the time being at that I'll be down later."

"Very good, Mrs Levinson," Mrs Hughes replied, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Mrs Hughes," Martha called, "could you send up Lady Grantham's maid with one of the sedatives Dr Clarkson left?"

"No…" Cora interrupted, pushing out of her mother's arms and gingerly wiping the tears from her face before turning and offering Mrs Hughes an embarrassed smile. "I'm fine, Mrs Hughes, please do not bother."

"Mrs Hughes, please get Jenkins, with the sedative." At Mrs Hughes's hesitation, Martha's face grew hard with determination. "Please do as I ask. Lady Grantham will be angry with me, not with you, but I'm her mother so I can take it."

"Mother…" Cora sighed, "I do not need to be drugged."

"You need proper sleep or you are just going to keep unraveling at the seams. Proper rest and proper food. Rest now, and when you've had a nice sleep you can eat." Martha instructed in a stern voice, one that Cora knew well. The argument was effectively over in Martha's opinion.

As both woman stood from the floor, Martha touched Cora's arm. "You may need all of your strength in the coming days, my girl. Not taking care of yourself is not going to bring him home."

Cora nodded, furiously wiping at the tears that welled upon her lashes again. What remained unsaid, that he may never come home, hung between them as clear as if the words had been given a voice.

* * *

Robert wiped the sweat from his brow, tipping his head back for a moment as the strong sun beat down on him. The muscles running along his shoulders protested at the new angle of his neck and he twisted it carefully, working out the aches. The movement made him sway slightly, the combined effects of too little water and too much back breaking work in the suffocating heat.

"Are you alright, milord?" Bates asked quietly from beside him.

"Yes," Robert replied in an equally low voice. "It's Gob bloody awful hot out here!"

"You two over there!" A man Robert had come to know as General De Wet hollered at them while guiding his horse closer. "You are to be digging, not talking!"

"Yes sir!" Robert and Bates answered, picking up their shovels once more and striking the dirt.

Robert waited until the general was reprimanding another prisoner before letting the scowl pull down his face. He shuffled to the left, the cuff of his chains abrading the skin of his ankle harshly. His back screamed with every heap of dirt he heaved out of the hole they were creating, his parched throat as dusty as the air around him. As the metal of his spade struck the earth, he cursed under his breath. He had tried keeping track of the days when they were first captured, but as one grueling day passed into another, he had lost count. It seemed like a week, though he couldn't be entirely certain. Thinking about it made his chest clench hard. Cora would have been told by now. Word would have reached her and he prayed she hadn't been alone when the war office sent someone to the house.

Most likely they would tell her he was missing, or captured, and picturing her face as she heard the truth caused him to push the shovel angrily into the dirt. He grunted, the only way to let the building fury in his body escape under the watch of the Boers.

"I need to find a way out of here, Bates." Robert growled.

He wasn't sure the other man heard him until he replied, "Just say when, milord, and I will be right behind you."

* * *

The library was eerily quiet, each of its occupants having run out of safe things to talk about. Cora hadn't said much at all, leaving the small talk to her mother and Marmaduke. Rosamund had made half-hearted attempts in the beginning of the evening, but her red-rimmed eyes and her warbled sighs were an indication of how hard Robert's absence was also affecting her. Cora knew the woman loved her brother, but every time Marmaduke caressed Rosamund's hand in concern, or leaned close to brush his lips against her cheek, she felt the bile rush up her own throat in a flash of hateful resentment. She needed _his _hands and _his _lips to calm her fears, but he wasn't there and it was breaking her heart, piece by piece.

The sound of the front door opening and shutting and the pert echo of fast footsteps reached them, breaking through the thick atmosphere and every one of them seemed to sit up to attention, waiting. Violet pushed through the door, still in her traveling clothes. Cora and Rosamund sprang to their feet, as though controlled by the strings of a puppeteer.

"Please say you have more information." Rosamund begged her mother, going to her and clinging to her arm. Violet looked at her daughter for a moment, before gently shaking off her hands and walking slowly to Cora.

Cora wrung her hands together, taking a deep breath. Her mother in laws face was pale, the whites of her eyes spidered with red veins. She had been crying on the train, her handkerchief was still within the grasp of her hands. _I will not fall apart in front of them, _Cora repeated the mantra to herself though she felt the trembling begin. Violet took her by the elbows and guided her back into her seat and looking only at her spoke.

"Shrimpy was able to finally speak with Lord Kitchener's assistants. To the best of their knowledge, Robert was captured by the Boers that ambushed his unit. They would have taken him to one of their prisoner camps. Shrimpy is staying in London for the time being and will cable us as soon as he knows anything else." Violet explained, her voice strained as she delivered the news.

Cora's breath stuck in her chest as she tried to digest what Violet had told her. She couldn't process it. He wasn't dead, which left her weak with thanks but he was a prisoner and for one second she imagined what that could mean for him before her mind shut down on those thoughts.

"You must be exhausted Mama," Cora responded flatly. "Did you eat on the train?"

Violet frowned, concern etched in the lines on her forehead. "I'm fine, dear."

"What are they going to do for him? He's the Earl of Grantham! They can't just let him rot in some prisoner of war camp!" Rosamund demanded, finally finding her voice.

Violet shot her a warning look, "Rosamund, please…".

"No!" Rosamund yelled, startling everyone. "Shrimpy must do more! And where is James? Why isn't he in London calling in the favors owed to him? I'll tell you where he is...packing his bags and waiting for the body to be sent back."

"Rosamund!" Violet hissed.

Cora swallowed convulsively around the tightening in her throat. "I think I'm going up," she whispered. Martha rose quickly to her feet, going to Cora's side but her daughter shook her head.

"Cora…" Rosamund said, instantly regretting her outburst.

"It's alright. I'm alright. Just tired." Cora's attempt at a smile felt more like a grimace and she looked away from the pitying, worried faces that watched her leave the library. None of them knew, none of them understood. Rosamund loved her brother and Violet would mourn her son terribly, but Robert was her whole world, he held everything within him for her, and if he died, she didn't know what she would do.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!**

_31 December 1900_

_My dear, dear Robert,_

_It is the eve of the new year. It will be 1901 in just a few short hours and I while I thankfully say goodbye to this past year of separation and heartache I fear what the next will bring. Where are you Robert? The last six days have been the worst of my life, and yet I feel you are out there somewhere, trying to come back. As ridiculously sentimental as it may sound, I believe I would know it in my soul if you were truly gone. Perhaps it is just the strong power of denial that has me feeling this._

_Where writing you once made me sad, it now helps, as though the words I put to paper are a tether connecting me to you, wherever you are. I know you know how much I love you. You are probably embarrassingly aware sometimes of my feelings. And I know how much you love me, no matter how hard it is for you to express. But I long to say the words to one another face to face again, to show you how much._

_So please come home Robert. Please._

_Always yours,_

_Cora_

* * *

Violet took the driver's offered arm as she exited the carriage and she brusquely walked to the door. As of late, she had been spending most of her time at Downton. The ending of the holidays and the onset of winter meant that, mercifully, outside of the day to day running of the house, estate and village obligations were few, but she still felt it to be her duty to offer Cora any help she could. And having tasks, clear, useful tasks, kept her focus on things other than what could be happening to her son.

Her task since he had gone missing was not only to bring him home, but to keep his family intact for when he returned. And that started with his wife.

"Good afternoon, milady," the man exiting the house said while tipping his hat.

It took Violet a moment to place his face. "Mr Murray! Good day. I didn't know we were expecting you."

"I came rather unannounced. I had pressing business to discuss with Lady Grantham." Mr Murray explained quickly before glancing at his pocket watch. "Forgive me, but I'm late for my train."

"Of course," Violet replied, watching the man hurry to the carriage and climbing in.

With renewed intent, Violet hurried through the front doors, distractedly greeting Carson and being directed to the library, where Cora apparently was. Entering the room, Violet sighed at seeing Martha there as well. She felt her shoulders stiffen to think the woman had been present while Mr Murray discussed family matters, especially if they were of a financial matter, with Cora.

"I wager you knew about this," Martha stated coldly when she saw Violet approaching. Cora, sitting with her back to the door, stood as Martha spoke.

"Hello Mama," Cora said, coming to her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Her daughter in law looked absolutely spent and Violet had a strange maternal urge to hold her close, needing to mother something suddenly, and Cora was the closest she had to a child at the moment. Instead, she squeezed her arm before pursing her lips and directing her gaze to the red head on the sofa.

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me in your...crass fashion."

Before her mother could speak, Cora explained. "Mr Murray just left. He wanted to inform me that cousin James had been to see him in London, trying to subtly inquire into the terms of Robert's...will." Cora stopped at the word, blinking rapidly and looking away.

"He apparently wanted to discuss the entail as well and also asked Mr Murray what it would take to be declared interim executor of the estate while Robert's status remains unknown." Martha interjected, her voice rising with indignation. "Your nephew is already trying to push Cora out."

"Firstly, he is my nephew by marriage only," Violet spat, "secondly, I had no forewarning of his actions and I resent the implication that I did."

"Oh do you!" Martha barked, standing, "And I resent that if something happens to Robert, Cora and the girls will be thrown out within the week without so much as a bread crumb and my husband's money will finance the lifestyle of that nephew of yours."

"Let's get one thing clear. That money isn't your husband's, not any longer. It was Cora's dowry and would have come under the control of her husband, whom ever she married. It's unfortunate that it's tied to the estate, but we all knew the terms when they married," Violet pointed out. "And if we are to talk about money, then lets point out the negligence you and your husband showed. If you were so concerned over Cora's welfare should something happen, he should have gifted her an allowance all her own that we couldn't touch."

Martha's nostrils flared out. "So now it is our fault that Robert and your husband did not deem it necessary to set aside funds to provide for the woman that saved them from ruin should Robert die and no son was had? The Grantham men are very narrow sighted, as history dictates time and time again."

"How dare you?" Violet's voice was low and scathing.

"Please, both of you," Cora begged. Violet bit the rest of words waiting on her tongue, turning to Cora, who had closed her eyes, one of her hands reaching up and pinching the bridge of her nose.

Violet took a deep breath and ignoring Martha turned fully to her daughter in law, "I think the best way to minimize James is to actually invite him here for the time being. We'll give him a job. Perhaps he can work with Jarvis around the estate, feel important. We...you...need to start there. It will stroke his ego that you're reaching out to him for help, and it might benefit you in the end, should you need him on your side…".

* * *

Robert shifted on the hard ground, wincing as his bones protested. He pulled the tattered uniform jacket that he used as a blanket closer to his chin, shivering in the coldness of the desert night. Mosquitoes leached his ankles, but after the first few bites, Robert grew too weary to swat them away. The groans of men interrupted the buzzing sounds of insects and Robert sighed, adding his own sound to the miserable night song.

_What is she doing right now?_ He wondered how she was getting on, the great burden of knowing how worried she would be making his bones ache as much as the blasted floor he laid upon.

"How long do you think we've been here, Bates?" Robert asked.

He could hear Bates shifting to his right. "I think a month, milord."

"That's what I suspected. I cannot stay another week here Bates! I must find a way home!" Robert muttered quietly, mindful of the guards outside their cell.

"I've been studying their patterns," Bates whispered, nodding to the guards. "They change over at midnight. There's a station down the hall where they convene. It takes fifeteen minutes for the new guards to start their patrol. We could easily make a break for it then."

"There's just one problem," Robert pointed out. "How are we to get out of here?" Robert extended his hand, indicating the barred door locking them in.

Bates reached into his pants pocket. His hand, when he brought it in between himself and Robert, was balled into a fist. Slowly Bates unfurled his fingers. Moonlight from the one small window at that very top of the wall hit the object, the shine of the metal as bright to Robert as the North Star. A key. Robert stared, wide eyed, before blinking up at Bates. The man's lips turned into a smirk.

"Where did you get that?" Robert mouthed, afraid to call any attention to themselves.

Bates shrugged in reply, tucking the key safely back into his pocket.

* * *

With a Herculean effort, Cora forced the piece of food that she had been macerating to move further back in her mouth. She glanced up as she attempted to swallow. Her throat worked convulsively, and for a moment, looking at James across from her in Robert's seat, she was sure she would choke. A part of her almost welcomed that fate.

After only three days of suffering his presence, Cora had enough. She'd had enough of his exaggerated concern, of the smug input he was already more than willing to offer on a variety of things, of the way he walked around Downton, his chest puffed out, a peacock displaying his feathers, showing who the new lord was. Just the sight of him, sitting where Robert should be, was enough to make her sick. James didn't care about Downton the way Robert did, about the people it employed or its role in the county, not by half. He did care very much though about the power the title would give him and the money.

"Carson, you must tell your cook that this is the best Lobster Newburg I've eaten in a great while," James declared, as though his approval should mean something greater than it did. "What is her name?"

"Mrs Patmore, sir," Carson responded stiffly, barely looking at James.

"Ahh Mrs Patmore," James repeated, before turning his face to her. "Is she working from your menu, Cousin Cora?"

Confused, Cora furrowed her brow. "Of course she is."

"Hmm," James tapped his lip in mock thought and Cora had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Do you not think lobster rather a luxurious entree for just the family?"

Most of the clinking of silver against china stopped. Cora's grip on her fork tightened uncomfortably as she felt the heat of embarrassment and the chill of resentment simultaneously. From the corner of her eye she saw her own mother's posture straighten severely, the joint of her jaw popping under her cheek as she obviously tried to silence whatever retort was ready to burst out.

"James," Camilla scolded, saying her husband's name with a nervous cackle.

"I believe that Cora has it under control James, but thank you for gracing us with your opinion," Violet said tersely, taking a sip of her wine as the table fell into an awkward silence once more.

* * *

Robert laid upon the floor of his cell as he did every night, listening to the other prisoners, hearing the sighs of their discomfort before sleep finally claimed him. There were men here that were part of his unit, men he had battled with until they had fallen to the enemy. Men whom he led. His conscience twisted his gut as Bates gave him the signal.

He was going to leave them behind.

Scrambling quietly to his feet, he watched as the guards marched down the hall. From their cell, he could hear the muffled laughter as the Boers chatted amongst each other, one set of guards turning over their shift to another. Bates dug in his pocket and produced the key and in a move that seemed far too simple, he reached his hand through the bars, angled the key just so, and slipped it into the lock. The turning of the mechanism seemed to echo around them and Robert braced himself, sure that everyone else had heard it too, but no one came rushing toward them. Bates pushed open the door and then Robert followed, both staying close to the wall as they slinked down the hall.

Crouching down, they made their way to the flimsy door that separated them from the nighttime desert. Giving one last look around, they both took deep breathes, nodded and then bolted out the door, running hard into the vastness waiting for them.

Adrenaline fueled Robert's every step, pushing farther, faster. They had no real destination, he suddenly realized, only a general theory as to which direction to head, but anything was better than rotting in that prison. The further away they got, the more giddy Robert felt. He was about to call out to Bates when he heard the shouting behind them. Distinctly Dutch shouting.

And then the shooting began.


	17. Chapter 17

They hid in the low, dusty brush as quietly as they could, waiting. The foreign tongue of their captors could be heard in the distance as they shouted orders to one another. The sweat dripped off of Robert's face, tickling his flesh on its path down from his forehead and though the sensation was driving him mad he didn't dare move to wipe himself.

Bates was hit. He could tell by the ragged quality of his breathing, though how badly Robert couldn't ascertain from his position a few yards away. After what seemed an eternity, the voices of the Dutch soldiers who hunted them became harder and harder to hear as they searched in the opposite direction. When the night air remained silently unbroken for a long stretch of time, Robert chanced to move, crawling on his belly in the direction of Bates's shadow.

"Where have you been struck?" Robert whispered cautiously.

"My leg," Bates replied, his voice strained with pain.

"Damn," Robert cursed, all of the surging hope he had felt when they ran out of the prison disintegrating rapidly.

A tearing sound caught Robert's attention and he squinted into the opaqueness, barely making out Bates's actions as he tore his shirt and used it to staunch the bleeding wound above his knee. After tugging the strips of cloth tightly, Bates leaned his weight onto his arms, bent his good leg, and pushed himself up, sucking in a steadying breath as he hobbled a few paces.

"I can make it my lord," Bates promised through gritted teeth. "We need to start out if we hope to use the cover of night."

"Are you quite sure, Bates?" Robert asked with concern, though every nerve screamed with the desire to find civilization and a way home.

"Quite," Bates repeated and led the way.

* * *

They walked slowly, wordlessly, for about an hour before Bates leg gave out and they were confident they hadn't been followed. Settling near a small river, they bedded down, resting and taking turns looking out for predators and people.

"How's the leg Bates?" Robert finally asked, neither one of them really able to sleep.

"Not terrible considering, milord." Bates answered softly.

"Bates...I wonder...it's just that we're out here in the wild, after being imprisoned. After escaping and being shot at. I should like you to call me Leftenant Crawley. Or sir if you must, but no more 'milord' business. Not while we're out here, alone, trying to survive."

Bates regarded Robert for a moment before nodding, "If that's what you wish...Leftenant Crawley."

Robert laughed awkwardly, "My wife would give me such a ribbing, you know. Make some joke about the crumbling of the aristocracy and such."

"Would she?" Bates asked.

"She's American. Did I ever tell you that?" Robert inquired absently. "She's not as tied to the traditions as us English."

"Did you travel to America, sir?" Bates asked.

"Oh no! Lady Grantham...Cora...was brought to England for her first season by her mother. I met her in London…" Robert faded away, lost in thought. "Sometimes I catch myself looking at her and I cannot quite believe it. Out of all the men in America and England that she met, she's _my _wife."

"It sounds as though you care for her very much," Bates said gently.

Robert nodded, unable to keep talking around the thickness in his throat. Just speaking about Cora flooded his mind with images of her, and he couldn't help but ruminate over her well

being. He knew if the roles were reversed, and she was somehow missing with no word, no knowledge of her whereabouts or her health, he would be going out of his head. How she was faring these past weeks, no one able to tell her if he was dead or alive, their family's future uncertain, he couldn't fathom. All he knew was he ached to be with her and he would do anything needed to get back home to her.

* * *

From her position on the bed, Cora could look straight out her window and up to the stars in the sky. It had always been one of her favorite advantages of the room, the tall windows offering a clear view if the drapes were parted. The moon was shining full tonight, its light diluted by the snowflakes falling heavy to the ground. She blinked her eyes rapidly, the need for sleep making them itch, but at least they were dry. At least there wasn't an onslaught of tears that would leave her spent, finally pulling her down with exhaustion. Cora no longer cried herself to sleep and a pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She knew she wasn't moving on, knew she hadn't accepted Robert was gone forever, but she was becoming numb. And though a part of her wanted to keep feeling his absence acutely, it was too much to be constantly fluctuating between hope and mourning.

She tossed away from the window in annoyance, desperately wanting to find sleep only to sit up with a hand to her chest and a gasp leaving her mouth. Framed in the doorway were Edith and Mary, the candle Mary held flickering across their faces, illuminating the tears on Edith's cheeks.

"Girls?" Cora called out, tossing the covers away from her legs and rushing around the bed. Edith broke free of the hold Mary had on her hand and ran to her mother.

"Mama!" she cried before launching herself into Cora's open arms.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Cora crooned, stroking her hair.

"She had a bad dream," Mary replied quietly. "She wouldn't go back to sleep and insisted on coming here. She was too much of a baby to walk by herself."

"You be quiet, Mary!" Edith yelled, her face still pressed into Cora's chest.

Cora tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, giving her oldest daughter a look of warning before looking back down at Edith. Standing up, she gently cupped Edith's chin and guided her face upward.

"Won't you tell me what it was about?" Cora asked.

Edith shook her head vigorously, pressing her lips together and Mary let out a sigh of exasperation. Whipping her head around, Edith stuck her tongue out at her sister before then looking at her mother's bed.

"Do you think I could stay in here? Just for tonight?" Edith asked shyly.

Before Cora could answer a loud booming sound rattled the windows, causing both girls to yelp. Mary quickly deposited her candle on the side table and ran to her mother, burying herself in her nightgown just as Edith did.

"What was that?" Mary cried.

Cora turned toward the window. "I think it was thunder."

"But it's snowing! Thunder doesn't happen with snow." Mary said incredulously.

"Sometimes it does." Cora answered. "It's rare, but it happens. When I was a girl we'd have some of the most magnificent storms. Sometimes lightning would cut through the snow as well."

"Can...can I stay too?" Mary ventured, looking away in embarrassment.

"Come," Cora said, leading the two girls by the hands to her bed. They quickly climbed in and positioned themselves on either side of their mother, snuggling into her as she wrapped her arms around them. All three stared up at the canopy for a moment.

"Mama?" Edith finally asked. "Is Papa dead?"

"Shut your silly mouth, Edith!" Mary scolded, hitting her sister's arm by reaching across Cora.

Cora stilled Mary's movement. "Sweetheart, Papa is not dead. Why would you think such a thing?"

"Because cousin James is here. And grandmama has been here for so long. And Granny hardly leaves," Mary answered, cutting Edith off.

Cora looked down to her left, Mary's dark eyes finally meeting hers. She was so mature but there was still a very frightened little girl under her daughter's stoic face. Cora caressed her hair. "Things are not exactly right, but your Papa is not dead. He's trying very hard to get back to us."

"He's missing," Edith said seriously, clutching her mother tighter.

"Where did you hear that?" Cora asked.

"Two of the housemaids," Mary informed her.

"Mama?" Edith asked, "Are you going to leave us here and go back to America if something happens to Papa?"

"What?!" Cora demanded. When Edith only began to cry once again, Cora gripped both of their hands tightly, looking from one tiny face to the other. "Whatever happens, we are a family and we are not going to be separated."

* * *

Robert stopped in his tracks and bent down, bracing his hands on his knees and breathing deeply. It had been two days since breaking free and he felt confident that they were heading in the right direction, though their pace was excruciatingly slow due to Bates's injury. With no food and little water it was getting imperative that they reach civilization soon.

Bates came up beside him, taking a pause as well. Pushing his knees with the intent to straighten and continue their trek, the nausea Robert had been battling all morning finally won out and he dropped down, emptying bile onto the ground. The action left his vision swimming, the world tilting back and forth, and he wiped an arm across his forehead, the cloth of his sleeve drenched in sweat.

"Sir?" Bates inquired, struggling to crouch down beside him.

Robert shook his head and stumbled onto his feet, blinking his eyes to dissipate the darkness that threatened, "We need to press on."

Bates returned to his feet and they both began walking once more. After only going a short distance, it became apparent to Robert that he wouldn't be able to go much farther. Each step felt as though he were lifting lead weights instead of his foot. The nausea was back once more and the landscape continued to come in and out of focus. Robert's legs wavered but before he could hit the ground Bates had grabbed him and, holding him around the waist, shuffled them down the path they were taking.

"I can't keep going, Bates," Robert slurred, wanting nothing more than to lay down and close his eyes.

"You must," Bates grunted while supporting most of Robert's weight. "Lady Grantham is waiting for you. And unless it is a mirage, that is a British camp."

Robert brought his eyes to where Bates pointed, barely able to make out the objects in the distance. It seemed so very far away, but with Bates supporting him, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.


	18. Chapter 18

D 385 52/1 URGENT

9 FEBRUARY 1901

YORKSHIRE

COUNTESS OF GRANTHAM

LORD LEFTENANT GRANTHAM HAS BEEN FOUND. DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM HE IS SUFFERING FROM MALARIA. PROGNOSIS UNCERTAIN. ON BEHALF OF THE GOVERNMENT I WISH TO OFFER DEEP SYMPATHY IN YOUR CONTINUED ANXIETY

P BRADLEY MINISTER OF DEFENSE

* * *

Robert was only aware of two things, heat and pain. Heat whose source could be found somewhere deep within radiating like a flame, the core burning molten blue, his insides melting onto themselves. It brought the pain, every molecule and cell twisted in agony. As though from a great distance he could hear his own moans.

Flashes of memory assaulted his semi conscious mind. Bates carrying him the last leg of their journey, his body twitching uselessly with fever. The taste of earth in his mouth as Bates's own injury caused him to fold under Robert's added weight. The sweet sound of his countrymen as the medics spoke over his bed, arguing about his condition.

Just as in the prison, time became an obscure entity. Robert tossed and turned from one day into the next. He was tired down into the marrow of his bones and once breathing seemed too great a chore, he knew he was close to dying. Death, as it was playing out for him, was a monotonous, drawn out process that finally won by exhausting the life out of its victim.

John was by his side on a particularly bad night, when Robert could hear but could not speak, when his ghoulish, fevered dreams confused his reality. The words he said were nothing but noise in Robert's head, save for one. _Cora. _Her name sounded foreign from Bates's voice but it still conjured her in his mind. His heart ached in his chest with the effort to keep beating and he sent an apology to her up to the heavens. He had never had cause to feel like a failure until that moment. He had tried to keep his vow to her but he had failed. There would be no earnest reunion, no holding of his new child in his arms, no more chances to tell her how he really felt.

"John..." Robert's voice was a wheeze of air punctuated by a cough.

"Yes sir." Bates leaned closer.

"Tell her," Robert said, 'tell Cora...for me…."

His words were shouted within his soul but John could not make out whatever it was that Robert's weak lips tried to utter. A great sorrow descended on him, to think he had never really showed her how deeply he loved her, that she was a vital part of him, that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had always thought there would be enough time and now it seemed, his time had run out. It would be his greatest regret.

* * *

Cora sat stiffly upon her chair, periodically glancing out the large window that faced the street. Her tea grew tepid in its cup, forgotten in her hands. She was a dizzying mix of nerves and excitement. Her knee bounced under the folds of her dress, the quaking it produced throughout her body distracting her from thinking too much.

Finally she could hear the carriage outside as it drew up to the house. She watched while the driver hopped down and opened the door. The top of his head was visible as he bowed down out of the door and onto the sidewalk. He straightened slowly and Cora couldn't help but notice, even from the distance, that his clothes hung from his body, his shoulders rounded forward with fatigue, his face was lined like an old man's. Cora held her breath, standing as well. Her teacup rattled on its plate as she placed it down and she clasped her hands together. When they'd first received word that against all of his doctors expectations Robert would recover and would be honorably discharged within the month, she'd been weak with joy. Now that the moment was here, the moment she had both dreaded and prayed for, she wasn't sure she could face him.

"Cora!" Robert's voice filled the hall and even that sounded off, lesser than it had been. She turned to the drawing room's door, tensely waiting. His profile filled the space she was watching and he looked around a beat until he saw her. The furrowed brow cleared and his face broke out into a smile that still didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Cora," Robert sighed and she ran to him, clutching at his coat, sinking her face into the hollow of his neck. He squeezed her hard, almost painfully, whispering her name, until he suddenly remembered, pushing her out from him.

"My dear, I'm so sor-" the apology fell from his lips as he stared wide eyed at her flat middle. He reached out slowly to graze his fingers where his child should be but Cora took one step back. Robert's eyes rose up to Cora's, the irises already swimming with pain.

"Oh no…" he whispered and Cora shook her head, trying to catch her breath.

"It's not what you think," she was finally able to stutter out but not before the first of Robert's tears slipped past the barrier of his closed eyes and Cora pressed a palm to her chest, her heart constricting at his broken appearance.

His face turned blank as the words sputtered out of her, as she explained the mistake the doctor had made. Cora quickly recounted the events of the ordeal as Robert stood unmoving, listening to her. She couldn't read his face, and she felt cold as panic seized her.

"How long did you know?" Robert asked, his voice low and controlled.

"Sybil became ill in October," Cora replied in way of an answer. It happened immediately, the hardening of his face, the lines of it deepening and Cora bit her lip hard, willing herself not to cry. She had expected this, she consoled herself, it was going to be a shock for him.

"You knew for two months before I went missing," Robert spat, pointing an angry finger at her, "and you lied to me all that time!"

"Robert," Cora plead, "I thought it was the best way. I thought-"

"No you did not!" Robert roared, his face screwed up in anger. "You did not think, Cora! Did you think how I dreamt of that child? Did you think how I already had come to love it?"

"I did, Robert! I did!" Cora cried, her tears now flowing freely, her own grief bubbling up once again.

"This is why you wanted to meet me in London instead of Downton," Robert said, waving his hand in agitation. "You knew this was a betrayal of the most hurtful kind and you wanted as few witnesses as possible when I found out."

"Robert, please…." Cora said.

Robert held up his hand and stepped out of the room. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, unwilling to meet her eyes. Cora recoiled into herself at the look of disgust that briefly took over his face.

"I'm going back to Downton. Now. You may come if you wish, or stay here. It makes no difference to me. I want to see my children." And with that Robert was gone.

Cora stared at the spot he had been in and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly. Dazed, she walked to the chair she had been in and lowered into, her tears flowing freely down her face.

* * *

"Thank God Martha has left. That woman is non stop chatter," Robert grumbled, taking a sip of his tea.

"Well, I won't disagree with you, but I wonder if she shouldn't have stayed a little longer. Although she wouldn't admit, Cora needed her." Violet said over the rim of her teacup, watching Robert's mouth turn into a hard line.

"Hmph," Robert snorted.

Violet carefully placed her teacup down. "Don't you think you're being a little harsh on her?"

Robert sighed feeling the heat burn in his face, the topic his mother was broaching stirring up the anger he kept pressed down. It had been a week since he'd come home, seven days of avoiding Cora, of leaving rooms that she entered, of silent dinners, of wandering around Downton not quite knowing what to do with himself. He felt lost, stripped raw, as though dropped into a life he had read about but did not know how to live.

"Mama, I think this is best left between Cora and I." Robert answered levelly.

"I advised her to not tell you. I feel responsible that you are prolonging this tantrum." Violet said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"_Tantrum_?" Robert repeated incredulously. He pushed himself up and away from the small table, his fury building. "You think it _unreasonable _that I should feel angry?"

"Angry, yes. But not betrayed." Violet said. "If you are to be angry, then be angry at fate, circumstance. But do not take it out on Cora."

"Well, I cannot help it. My wife lied to me for months. That child was as real to me as any of our girls and I am mourning it, as well as the trust I thought Cora and I shared." Robert rubbed his forehead, leaning against the mantel as quietness followed his words.

"And don't you think it was just as real to Cora?" Violet prodded gently. "I don't think you've truly appreciated how difficult the last year has been for her."

"Oh, so you're her patron saint now? My, things really have changed in my absence," Robert scoffed, though his heart wasn't in to the fight any longer.

"I'll forgive your tone because you've been through the fire, my dear boy." Violet walked over to Robert and laid a hand on his arm. "Just do not forget that she has been too."

* * *

Robert startled awake, his breathing labored and his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat slicked the back of his neck and Robert wiped the bare skin their with a shaking hand. He sat up, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing as it began to even out. In the dark, the nightmare lingered. He could still feel the cold steel of his gun in his hands, the violent kick back as he fired it into the swarms that charged, the immediate glaze that happened over someone's eyes when they were fatally shot. The eyes of all the dead followed him these thousands of miles away.

Blinking rapidly, trying to dispel the images that would not leave him, Robert focused on the familiar surroundings of his dressing room. He kept his eyes on the wardrobe, tracing the lines of the woodwork until his heart beat returned to normal. It was only then that he registered the sound in the room. Looking to the right of his bed, he was startled to see Cora curled into his small vanity chair, an afghan draped across her shoulders. She was sleeping, her head tilted awkwardly to the side, and even in sleep her brow was knitted deeply, her hands balled into fists in her lap. Robert wondered who she was fighting in her dreams. His heart dropped to look at her like this. His mother's words from that afternoon echoing in his mind. He had been blind and rendered stupid by his anger. This was the first time he'd really taken the opportunity to see her since coming home. She looked unwell, all of the trials she'd endured carving her hollow. Robert swallowed, suddenly desperate to touch her.

"Cora," he called quietly though she jumped at his voice anyway. A look of confusion crossed her tired face.

"I fell asleep," it came out more like a question and Robert nodded his head.

"What are you doing in here?" Robert asked not unkindly.

Cora drew the afghan tighter around herself. "You have nightmares. I can hear you from the bedroom. You settle if I hold your hand."

"How many nights?" Robert asked unbelieving.

"Every night since you've been home," Cora whispered, looking down into her lap before standing up wearily.

"Cora…" Robert called to her retreating back. She didn't turn around, but let out a great sigh, her shoulders dropping.

"Goodnight Robert. Sleep well." Robert put his face in his hands as she carefully closed the door behind her.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thank you, thank you to everyone who followed and reviewed this story. I really hoped you enjoyed it!**

Where Robert had spent the previous week avoiding Cora, it was now her turn to disappear around corners at the sound of his approach. He had been in her company briefly, as they bade farewell to James, Camilla and Patrick. He, Cora and the girls lined up and said their goodbyes, all the while Robert noting the unhappy turn of James's mouth as he cast a lingering look up the length of Downton's walls before settling into the carriage. Cora seemed to shudder beside him and his fingers twitched, wanting to lay a reassuring touch upon her, but stayed where they hung.

With the last of their guests gone, the house was suddenly very quiet. Robert's military trained ears could hear the clocks ticking in the rooms, the starched swish of the servants clothing as they went about their chores, the crackling of fires in the hearths. What was noticeably absent were the noises Cora made while occupying a space. He realized it set him on edge, her not being close by. Sitting at his desk in the library, he could take his own company no longer and he wandered up the stairs, finding himself in front of the nursery door.

"May I come in?" Robert asked, peeking into the room.

Stopping her work on a puzzle, Mary squealed and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Robert marveled once again at how tall she'd grown in his absence.

"Papa!" Edith cried on the heels of her sister, hugging his free side.

Robert chuckled, leaning to embrace his two oldest while little Sybil kept her place where she played on the floor, looking up at him with uncertainty and then glancing toward the door.

"Where is Mama?" Her tiny voice was high and displeased.

"I don't know dearest." Robert answered, his initial happiness at seeing his daughters sobered by Sybil's continued weariness towards him.

"She usually comes to see us while we breakfast," Edith said, her honey colored brows pulling together.

"I thought once you were home she wouldn't be sad anymore," Mary said quietly without meeting Robert's eyes.

Robert stroked his daughter's hair. "Has she been terribly sad?"

Before Mary could reply, Sybil stood quickly, her chubby hands balled into fists and punched into her hips. "Don't you say mean things about my mama!"

When she stomped her foot for emphasis, Robert couldn't help but laugh and it only caused the scowl she was aiming at him to deepen. He held up his hands quickly in surrender. "I'm not, cherub! She's the very best Mama, I know. I was just concerned."

Mary placed a hand in his. "She's very attached," Mary whispered. "Granny says Mama is too indulgent."

"I think you will all appreciate her brand of indulgence when you get older and realize how well you've been loved." Robert cupped Mary's chin and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "And now I'm going in search of the lovely lady in question. Be good for Nanny, girls."

* * *

After some sleuthing and finally, good old fashioned asking, Robert discovered from Carson that Cora had left for a walk earlier in the morning.

"But it's chilly!" Robert observed, knowing how much Cora hated being cold.

"Her Ladyship's gotten into the habit of walking after breakfast." Was Carson's explanation before helping Robert into his thick coat and hat. Robert's mood sagged more, realizing there were all sorts of habits she may have developed while he was away and he didn't like the servants having to educate him about his own wife.

The night before had seen a light dusting of snow blanket the countryside and Robert was glad for it as it held the marks of Cora's slim footprints. Robert followed the path she had unknowingly left for him, inhaling the crisp air deeply, savoring the mix of burning pine that escaped Downton's chimneys as the smoke mingled with the scent of a fresh snowfall. What a contrast this winter landscape was to the one he had recently left behind. He never thought he would be so content to feel his toes going numb from walking the cold earth. If only he could leave the images of Africa behind as easily as he had left her heat.

It didn't take long for Robert to realize where the tracks led. He should have known, really. Cora's favorite spot in the summer was the secret garden, but in the winter she gravitated more towards Penelope's Woods, the cover of the bare branches and how they played with the winter light speaking to something within her. He found her on the bench at the edge of the woods; the one he had placed there for her years ago, when she insisted on making the walk while heavily pregnant with Mary. She didn't move at his approach and Robert wondered if she had heard him at all as she stared ahead, at what he could not fathom. When he cautiously cleared his throat, she jumped to her feet, hastily wiping at her face before looking up at him. He noted the tension in her posture and the bruised skin under her eyes.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you up at night," Robert began, unsure of what to say now that he was facing her.

Cora shook her head dismissing his apology. "You haven't. I can't sleep anyway."

They both fell into an anguished silence reminiscent of their early days together and Robert felt the beginning tingles of panic. Perhaps they had spent too much time apart, experienced too much heartache alone to bridge the chasm.

"Cora…" Robert let the second syllable of her name linger on his tongue, caressing it the way he wished he could her.

"Robert, I would go to London." Cora spoke quickly, stopping whatever else it was that Robert hoped to express. "It would surely make it easier for you, not having to run away from me all day."

"Cora…" Robert tried once more.

"I would have gone already. I'll still go if that will truly make you happy, but being away from the girls...being separated from them..." Cora's breath hitched in her chest, preventing her from going on and Robert could see her chin quivering. She quickly lost the battle to contain her emotions and began crying into the palms of her hands.

"Of course you won't be separated from them." Robert told her as he went to her at last and wrapped her in his embrace. "Nor me. I do not want you to go live in London, Cora! Please do not cry my darling. Please."

Robert continued to hold her, rubbing her back as her tears subsided, almost as quickly as they had sprung up. They stayed that way, listening to the other's breathing and the whirling breeze through the bare branched trees around them. It was, Robert suddenly thought, the first time he had held her, even touched her, since that day he'd come back. His embrace tightened and he placed kisses to the top of her head, palming the back of her neck and massaging the taut muscles there.

"I'm sorry, Robert." Cora's voice was muffled, her face still pressed into his chest. "I thought I was doing what was best."

"I know. I know." Robert soothed. "I was angry and so terribly sad but it's no excuse for how I reacted."

After a few more moments of holding her, Robert pushed Cora gently away, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

"Why don't we go inside? I've not reacclimated to this cold weather and you must be freezing." Robert placed his arm around Cora's shoulders and turned them around back toward the house.

* * *

_Aunt Em had just come out of the house to water the cabbages when she looked up and saw Dorothy running toward her._

"_My darling child!" she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses. "Where in the world did you come from?"_

"_From the Land of Oz," said Dorothy gravely. "And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I'm so glad to be at home again!"_

Cora closed the leather bound book and placed her hands on the cover. "And now girls, it is time to sleep."

"Good night Mama!" The three Crawley sisters sang, snuggling under their blankets.

Cora stood from the rocking chair she had sat in and went to each bed, for a kiss and hug from each of the girls. When she turned to the door she paused, then smiled to see Robert leaning against the wooden frame.

"Good night my darling daughters." Robert called out softly. Before closing the door behind them, Cora leaned into the room blowing one last kiss to the sleepy girls.

"I haven't heard that story before? Is it new?" Robert asked as they quietly made their way down the hall.

"Yes. _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_, it's called. Mother brought it with her when she came. One of the many, many things she brought." Cora explained.

"I quite feel like that Dorothy, though sometimes I forget I am home and still feel as though I am in Oz." Robert said quietly, looking at the floor.

Cora laid her hand upon Robert's arm. "Oh darling, I cannot imagine how it is for you. And though I don't pretend to be a great comfort, I'd like to try."

Robert looked up then, taking her carefully by the shoulders. "But you are. A comfort that is. My most precious one." Robert kissed her gently on the forehead. "Might I move back in tonight?" Robert nodded his head toward her bedroom.

"Yes," Cora said without hesitation.

Robert chuckled at her eagerness, taking her hands in his. "I might keep you up. The dreams…"

"I don't care," Cora said resolutely. "We'll face the night together."

"With you by my side, I can face most anything," Robert whispered before placing his lips on hers.


End file.
